


The Samurai and the Oni Girl

by Silberias



Category: Naruto
Genre: 17th Century Japan, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Kakure Kirishitan, transfered from ff.net, uchihas causing crazy shit as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 113,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Silberias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To my regular subscribers: Please don't get mad at me! I'm uploading this old fic from my ff.net account, should be done today. </p><p>AU KakaSaku set in Edo-period Japan. Sakura is the descendant of a red-haired foreigner as well as a merchant's daughter. Kakashi is a local samurai who has fallen on hard times, a man whose pride has been broken down to this point. Love comes later. Intrigue comes after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was original inspired by a movie called "Twilight Samurai" which I highly recommend seeing somehow. It came out in 2002 and won like...all the awards. This story popped into my head, I never meant it to become anything so long and complicated as it did! I'm just now getting around to moving it to the archive today. 
> 
> This is an AU fic set in 18th century Tokugawa period Japan, about a hundred years into the Tokugawa period and about a hundred years before it's downfall. And chose that Sakura's maternal-side grandfather was from Ireland, and that her hair is a strawberry blond. I did a lot of research for this story and I am pretty proud of what I came up with.

Her father wanted the prestige of the samurai without having to outright buy it. He suffered enough with his wife being the daughter of a foreigner and a merchant's daughter, and he suffered enough with his only child being a daughter who looked like she was a demon from a Noh play, and he suffered enough that he was rich enough to bribe the right to carry two swords but too proud to steal that rank from the samurai, and he suffered enough that his family had the nickname Springtime to complement the strange color of his wife and daughter's hair. He therefore came easily to an agreement which eased his suffering with a samurai from the next village over, one Hatake Kakashi.

Kakashi was a samurai, having inherited the title from his father. His mother had been the daughter of another samurai, and each parent had seemingly been samurai since the time of Yoshitsune. The only difference between then and now was that the samurai of the past had been wealthy and affluent, whereas Kakashi made ends meet. His clothing was not dirty or ripped or too worn, but it was not new, and he was well kept save for his hair was a little too wild. She had heard rumors that Kakashi had suffered a great deal in his life as well, but bore it with the strength of a true samurai. But the man was hovering close to becoming a debtor after the funeral he had given his father, and much of his pride was humbled to the point of taking a merchant up on the offer of a wife—and the dowry she would bring with her. His only demand was that he meet with her before he accepted the dowry, he did not want to obligate anyone to anything until he determined whether a merchant's daughter for a wife was suitable.

Sakura was sixteen, a fine age her mother liked to say as she combed her fingers through her daughter's hair. They neither of them spoke about their neighbors Ino or Hinata, who were each married at fourteen and fifteen respectively—or that Ino was already a mother. Sakura's grandfather had been from a place he called "Eire," but he had spoken of it in passing only. What he  had passed on was his oddly colored hair to his daughter, and she had in turn passed it on to Sakura. Her mother's hair was more on the orange side of things, but Sakura's was just nearly pink it was so light. It was why, she had suspected for a few years, she was sixteen and unmarried. No man would want to account for her odd coloring to his family and associates, and so none of her father's acquaintances mentioned her to other friends. A samurai without the money to take in the next year's harvest was all she was left with.

There were men in her own village whom she would have chosen when she was twelve or thirteen, not yet understanding of how disadvantaged she was because of her appearance—sons of merchants not being encouraged to choose a wife based on her character, they were not beholden to the Confucian ideal of inner morality as the samurai were. There was the handsome son of one of the local samurai, Uchiwa Sasuke, but he had refused to leave his master, a lord from Kyoto, because that meant leaving Kyoto. Sasuke's dark eyes were cool towards her whenever he visited the village, though, and Sakura had only entertained thoughts of him because she knew of her father's painful position in life—wealth but little respect, and a marriage to a samurai's son would give her family respect. There was also the adopted son of the village head, another samurai. This young man loved her, Sakura knew that much, but his constant spouting of Chinese poetry when she preferred Japanese poetry was too much. Few were the visits to her father for her hand, and even fewer were the poems addressed to her from other than the lord's son.

Her mother and father were overjoyed when Sarutobi Asuma suggested that Sakura marry Kakashi. Asuma was of the proper rank to conduct such an introduction of the families, he was a samurai only slightly higher in ranking than Kakashi and he was not so haughty as to reject the company of a wealthy merchant. To arrange such a match would also bring him honor, and Sakura's father was close to Asuma to such a degree that it would be a slap in the face to reject his help with finding a husband for a pink haired girl. Sakura could only feel relieved that she could bring her family a bit of honor by marrying into the samurai class, but she could not contain her nervousness at the thought of  meeting Hatake Kakashi before her father paid him Sakura's dowry. He would see her and immediately the comparison to a demon, a devil, would pop into his head. Asuma said that he had forewarned Kakashi of her appearance, but Sakura could not take much comfort in that. She and her mother were the only people she had ever seen to have had this red hair, this wide forehead, and green eyes. This man was going to be as perturbed as any other at her, she knew it.

The travel between villages was an uneventful one because it had not yet been determined that Sakura would marry—no point in packing up her belongings or putting on expensive clothing. It was only a fifteen mile trip, something which fortunately only took a day. They got into the village late in the evening and stopped at the tiny inn to rest awhile as Sakura's father went to report their arrival to Hatake. As Sakura and her mother waited, innkeeper's wife was most informative about the Hatake family, of the character of Kakashi in particular. Her eyes were speculative as she took in the exotic hair color of her guests but politely did not publically address their oddness. She did remark that Sakura should not be surprised the next day when seeing Kakashi, that his hair had turned white within weeks of his father's death—being completely white by the time the man's funeral rites had been finished. The innkeeper's wife instructed Sakura, kindly and thankfully without staring at her hair, to not judge him as old when she met him.

Her father spared her from hearing any more by his return from paying his respects, but Sakura did not know if she should be thankful or not. Would she be a proper wife for a man so deeply committed to living a proper and moral life? She could bring shame upon him not only for her appearance but for her lineage, the child of merchants—of even foreign merchants—marrying up socially but down economically. While he seemed fine enough about this to agree to Asuma's matchmaking, it did not mean he didn't have strong feelings about it. Samurai had pride in their culture, and Sakura had always thought that that pride was well earned—while there were bad samurai, there were a great deal more of them who were good. They were disciplined people who were highly educated, and they fought bravely when it was required of them. A samurai should never have to consider marrying a merchant's daughter. Sakura lay down to sleep that night in an uneasy mood, she was certain that tomorrow Hatake Kakashi would break the informal agreement he and her father had reached.

The following morning dawned early, but the family didn't set out to Kakashi's land until midmorning because of dense fog which had rolled in over the night. Sakura knelt on the front porch of the inn, wrapped in warm layers and a carefully placed hood over her head—to keep her warm and to keep the dew and damp of the fog from twisting her hair out of carefully straight loops put in by her mother. Her own village was situated on a mountainside, above where fog traditionally formed. This village was lower, in the valley, and the mist could sometimes last into midday here. When the sun burned through the fogbank, bathing the village road in golden light and lighting up the trees and grasses into brilliant emeralds, Sakura was sure that she would easily find a home here. She knew she would be odd wherever she went in life, but here the mornings would dawn silver and white and gradually reveal the vivid colors of the lowlands. She wouldn't have to hide her appearance until later in the day if she were to live here.

Asuma arrived just as Sakura's mother was finishing helping Sakura change into an appropriate kimono for meeting with a samurai of Kakashi's standing. He was taller than Sakura's father and he assured her that his friend was even another two inches taller than him, even if the man didn't look it most days. Sakura could only smile a little, raising her hand to hide her mouth, because if she  opened her mouth she would start the morning off with a poorly worded question or a mangled message of thanks to her father's friend. It was better that she appear quiet and peaceful than upset and ill at ease, otherwise Asuma might feel that perhaps she was not an ideal match. She missed the troubled double take her calm reaction inspired in Asuma—he only considered the match between his friend and the daughter of his other friend because this girl was lively and if married to Kakashi would have no overbearing in-laws. He had told a reluctant Kakashi that this woman would bring light into his home and his life—his friend was certainly not expecting this demure girl-child in place of the young woman Asuma had known since her birth.

During the hour long walk, he tried to suss out why Sakura was acting so strangely. The best conclusion he could come up with was someone had convinced her that she was not adequate as the wife of a samurai. Whether she herself did the convincing or someone else, the girl was very wrong. A man living at the barest of his needs so as to save as much money as possible marrying the daughter of a rich merchant, it was a perfect situation for them both in both the immediate and the long-term. Kakashi wanted to live the ideal life of the samurai, not concerned with money because of a good wife keeping stock of the household and of the income, and the daughter of the Springtime Merchant was an excellent choice. Sakura had a head for managing money, and she was strong for a woman of her age and would be able to aid Kakashi in running his land as well. That the girl couldn't see this was troubling.

When they arrived at Kakashi's home Asuma went in alone, gently telling the family that he wanted to make sure that his friend hadn't forgotten about the number of visitors. Once the shoji were securely shut he sought out his friend, tapping at screens and peering into rooms. It was in the tea room that he found Kakashi discussing tea preparations with Asuma's wife Kurenai. Asuma smiled and knelt down to tell Kakashi of the strange development in Sakura.

Kakashi listened quietly, dark eye fixed intently on Asuma, the other eye closed against the light—it was sightless in any case, but Asuma didn't mention it. A year ago the daimyo had called all of them (himself, Kakashi, Kakashi's father, and their other friend Obito included) to help control a local rebellion, and the losses had been heavy. Obito had been killed, Kakashi had lost an eye, Asuma had nearly been lamed, and Kakashi's father Sakumo had sustained so many wounds no one expected him to have hung on as long as he did. The man had died after three months of agony, three months in which Kakashi's hair suddenly grayed, and was completely white within a month of his father's death. At thirty years of age each, they looked like a young man and a very old man when they spent time together in the village. Those times together had been waning as Kakashi tried to financially recover from the funeral which he had given his father, and as the man adjusted to living without either his father or his deepest friend. It was one morning after a sparring match between them using only wooden swords that Kakashi mentioned somewhat brokenly that he would marry a merchant's daughter rather than lose his family's land. Both could be seen as shameful he had gone on to say, but at least marriage didn't involve ultimate dishonor, suicide, and the end of his family line. Asuma had knelt in silence next to Kakashi for a few moments, staring at the dejected form of the powerful man, and was struck that he knew of a girl broken enough by life to be able to lend Kakashi the hand he needed.

"Bring them in, I suppose. Although tell them that I also wish to speak to Sakura-san alone." Asuma gave a short bow before collecting himself and making his way through the home back to the front porch where Sakura and her parents waited for him. They looked like a family of merchants, all with sharp and glinting eyes—even Sakura, despite her odd temper this morning—and the fine cotton clothing all of them wore. Silk would have been an affront to wear to such an informal meeting, and especially shaming to Kakashi who was in a financial mess. Asuma was glad that his merchant friend had foresight enough for this.

Sakura kept her eyes canted to the side as she entered the room behind her parents, subtly looking at the dimensions of the tatami and the aesthetic of their arrangement—according to her mother, a man's preferences of the dimensions of a tatami room could provide much insight to his character. She also did this so as to avoid seeing the samurai's reaction to her appearance—a man having white hair after a shock such as he had suffered was not unheard of, but she was just lucky to have even been invited. As she and her family sat to start the tea, she couldn't help but notice that she had been herded so that she faced Kakashi. For the majority of the time as they took tea she felt his eyes on her but refused to look up to meet his gaze. He would have the same cold eyes as Uchiwa Sasuke, she was sure of it. He and Asuma and her father spoke of the local daimyo and of the rebellion of the last year, each expressing quietly how glad they were to have had the strife put to an end. Sakura focused on helping her mother make more tea and keep water available, and she listened to her suitor's voice. It was a pleasant one, cool, docile, and calming—much like the fog of the earlier morning. She was startled out of her reverie by that voice asking her if she would accompany him to the garden he kept, to discuss whether it was suitable for the addition of a momiji tree, if the coloring of the maple would mix well with the other trees and flowers.

Her eyes shot towards him, breaking her earlier vow to not allow his gaze to judge her. She met only one eye as the other was clamped shut, a scar marring it directly down the center. It was the first time she saw his face, and the rest of him rather than just his knees and hands. He was a man in his late twenties—Asuma had mentioned thirty?—and crows' feet formed at the creases of his eyes, just becoming visible. His jaw was clean from stubble, and his shoulders were set at a relaxed slump. His hakama and haori were of a subtle design, showing the self-respect of a samurai but not the sumptuous quality of Asuma's clothing. This man would provide for her, but he would not be giving her a lavish lifestyle. Sakura felt she was kind of fine with that suddenly, a man with the money to do  that would no doubt keep her only as his mistress because he was ashamed of making her his wife. This man had no such wealth and was relaxed in this situation with her. His eyes were kind, not pitying, but kind.

Mentally Sakura committed herself to the bargain right then.

* * *

 

A high wooden fence divided the garden from the fields, latticework at the top to let a little light in at head-level, and as the two of them walked Sakura admired how the garden was calming and decorative around the periphery but the center was outlined in careful plots for a few vegetables and herbs. It was a useful space as well as a relaxing space. Kakashi indicated that they should sit in the shade of the fence on some grass sheltered from the sun, and they sat in silence for a few peaceful minutes. They were far enough from the main house that the sounds of her family and of Kakashi's guests were muted, and they were close enough to the fields to barely hear the songs of Kakashi's servant as he tilled the earth.

Sakura didn't know where to begin, and her companion seemed content to sit in stillness. She had never been around samurai, the only one she really knew before today was Asuma and he was even a wayward one in his youth. From what Asuma had told her and what the innkeeper had gossiped, Kakashi lived as simply as he could because that was what was encouraged by the daimyo and the shogun. He was not overly attached to worldly things, so for him to have lost so much to search after a woman like herself was saddening. As the silence stretched, Sakura mustered the courage to ask him.

"Hatake-san, when did you know?" When had he known he was facing the loss of his father's land? When had he known he was inches from becoming a debtor? When had he decided to bare his shame before his greatest living friend? Sakura emboldened herself further and subtly turned her head towards him to see his reaction, to see his face. He was so impassive, however, that he might as well have been wearing a mask.

"When my father was still alive, barely. It was a week before his death, I think. Someone in this town no doubt— no doubt —informed you of his last days. He was a war hero, he had saved many lives at what proved to be the sacrifice of his own. I knew that I had to give him the funeral befitting his honor in life, and it was halfway through planning that I realized that if I gave him what I thought was enough I would stand to lose everything. I only had one chance to do right by him." The seriousness of his words was fizzled as he flashed a boyish smile at her, all the more ridiculous for the lines just beginning to form at the corners of his eyes.

"But I brought you out here to discuss putting a momiji back here, not dreary things like the death of my father." He began to stand and Sakura was about to follow suit when he shushed the movement, leaving her sitting in the shade as he walked around the garden pointing out places he had considered putting it. At every turn he asked her opinion in a startlingly direct manner, his eye focused steadily towards her. Sakura initially tried to deflect, to just agree with his suggestions. She may have been educated at the behest of her father, but he never asked for her genuine opinion. It was disconcerting when this man looked at her and asked her, with all expectation of honesty, if he should plant a tree in the north side of the garden or the south side of it. He seemed to grow more cheerful as her voice grew stronger, from a weak "perhaps," to a strong, "must." And he  was growing more cheerful.

Kakashi had heard in passing from Asuma about the daughter of the Springtime Merchant in the next village over, as well as from a few others he knew in that town. Asuma was the only one to have called her Sakura rather than the Oni onna—demon girl—and that distinction had intrigued Kakashi. She had been termed alternately as lively or unruly, depending on if he was talking to Asuma or to someone else, and her descriptions had varied between unique, with a wide and expressive face with eyes the color of gems, and disturbing, with her apparently pink hair and her aggressive features. Such a woman could be in no place but a hard one—the daughter of a rich merchant, but so strange in appearance that no man wanted her. Kakashi had asked after her first when Asuma had approached him with the intent to find him a wife of suitable fortune that he might have another year or so to get back on his feet. He himself was in as hard a place as she—a member of the elite, a samurai, but ten years older than many of his class were when they sought a wife . He was nearly a pauper, with himself and his one servant doing much of the work on his land, and no father wanted to unite his daughter with a man who would have her labor at equal hours with him or take in work.

Kakashi was in need of a woman who was desperate enough to take him. But he fiercely believed that he would only marry a woman who wanted him, which is why he had insisted on meeting and getting to know this girl first—yes, Sakura needed a man who would take her, and yes her family wanted the prestige (and almost accomplishment) of marrying their daughter to a samurai, but he was reluctant to marry a woman solely for financial gain, or for a woman to marry him solely to secure a place in life and honor for her family. He wanted his wife to be his lover, to be more than his companion and the mother of his children. He wanted the deep connection his father had had with his mother, and even if it pained him to speak of this plainly, he would do it. Otherwise he and Sakura would be returning to their every-day lives single rather than betrothed. Looking over at the now bubbly young woman seated pleasantly next to his fence, Kakashi hoped that wouldn't be the case. Her laughter was different, less reserved than he had ever heard a woman laugh, and she often forgot to bring her hand to her mouth to cover her words. He enjoyed it, and took a moment to just admire her and her certainly unique looks.

In the shade her hair took on a reddish hue, rather than the fierce pink it had displayed as the sun beat down upon it. In the bright light of midday, in the middle of his garden—planted by his mother and maintained by his father after her death and by himself after Sakumo's death—with the green surrounding her, she looked like a spirit. She looked like a nature spirit certainly, but no demon. It was this feeling of rightness at that moment that prompted him to speak, because she looked like she belonged there, sitting in his mother's garden. If she belonged in the garden, she definitely belonged in his house. His hand fell away from whatever gesture he'd been halfway through, swinging to rest at his side. Kakashi dipped his head a little, a self-conscious smile tracing his lips, and he crossed the distance between them and knelt directly in front of Sakura. A similar smile touched her face, although her eyebrows pinched together slightly.

"We should plant it in the fall, together," her grass colored eyes flickered over his face for a moment, in the space between breaths, "if you'll have me. If you want me," Kakashi leaned forward a little, trying to make his point without being too forward, "if you, Sakura, want to spend your life with me, then we should plant a maple out here the fall after we're married. Will you?" her eyes slipped away from his, looking towards the spot both of them had favored for putting a tree which would hopefully provide thick shade as it grew taller. Kakashi waited, giving her a few heartbeats to think, willing her to think of herself rather than any duties she felt she owed to anyone. He tried not to stare her down as she avoided his eyes. This could have been a meeting of formality, but he had refused to allow anyone to agree to anything until he had met Sakura, until he witnessed on his own her smile and heard her laugh with his own ears. Now that he'd done these things, he found her beautiful, he found her to be witty, and he suspected a fierce and angry woman lurked inside of her, and he wanted to watch it all unfold. She was wholly unlike any daughter of a samurai he had ever met.

"So we would marry in the spring? Close to hanami?" a crazed twinkle sparked her eyes, "Are you making fun of my hair?"  there she was, the woman Asuma had spoken so highly of to him. Kakashi couldn't keep the grin from his face as he reached between them and took her hands. There would be a lifetime of fun between them.

"No, I'm  complimenting it, it's quite different. Complimenting. And so we match, with our strange hair—you and me."

* * *

 

Tenzou had decided to stay away from the house that day, away from Kakashi's guests. Away from the woman Kakashi was considering marrying. Whatever ideals he kept on about, it was about money. This girl from a village a day away by walking was only being matched because she had money, and Kakashi did not. Tenzou hadn't wanted to be around such dealings, and had decided to weed the fields. Again. He only returned to the main house when he saw the family pass by on the road back towards the village proper. In the fire of the setting sun, his master's intended looked like a witch, or a demon.

Inside the house, Kakashi was immersed in reading, sitting next to a tea bowl which had gone cold. Their dinner was nowhere in sight, which meant that their true roles of master and servant were being reasserted—silently and expectantly—by Kakashi. Tenzou sighed and went to the kitchen to boil some dried fish and rice, wishing dearly for something like a mushroom or an onion to add to the dish. Miso and rice again. He tried to restrain his feelings and be grateful that he had been kept through the difficulties of the last year. The Uchiwa family, a much bigger family with many lineages in nearby townships, had let go nearly half of their retainers. They had lost nine good men of the clan, Kakashi's best friend included, quelling the rebellion. While they were wealthier than the Hatake, the family had been financially devastated for the most part.

It seemed that Kakashi was the only one recently with a good head on his shoulders—realizing his difficulties and solving them. At least in the near future. Tenzou worried more about how much this Haru no Sakura would be able to work—she was a merchant's daughter, and had likely never set hand to plow in her life. Sakumo's garden would wither, and the three of them would starve once the influx of money ran out. Sure there was the dowry money, and the money gifts the couple would get at their wedding—if they married—but that would only go so far. They had just a bit more than broke even when Sakumo had been alive, the household earning the income of two samurai rather than one. Tenzou couldn't imagine three people, and perhaps children, living on the land-stipend which his master received.

He refused the option of trying to beg favor from his father. His father had refused for twenty years to acknowledge him, and Tenzou would never give the man the satisfaction of knowing that his unacknowledged son was still beholden to him. If Orochimaru had ever acknowledged Tenzou as his son, he would have grown up as a samurai rather than a servant. Or if his mother had lived. It had been Sakumo who told him of his mother's lineage—claiming descent from the first shogun on one side and from the imperial family on the other. If his mother had lived, he might at least not be a servant. A bastard child of a high-born lady was better than living unwanted as he had for so long.

And now he was going to starve to death, sooner or later, because Kakashi was the only man he had ever been able to tolerate as a 'master.' He couldn't, and wouldn't, abandon the only man who looked at him as he should be looked at rather than where his circumstances had landed him. That's how he knew he was going to starve to death, because of his stupid pride.

"Tenzou, where did you hide all day?" he glared at Kakashi over the steaming pots on the fire as the silver haired man knelt across from him. As if he didn't know. Just because marrying the girl would perhaps—if they were as frugal as they lived now—save them from the tax collector and give them a year to balance debts, didn't mean that the fields could be ignored or that water didn't have to be brought in or any number of women's chores which Tenzou was forced to do could be left unattended. Even one man taking care of a few things was better than no man at all.

"I was weeding the south field, then I straightened the fence, then I sharpened the tools, then I brought water to the back of the house so that we would have wash water, and then—"

"Alright, alright, I know. You don't like her because you don't know her. And you worry that she will be more of a burden then a help once she's here. All that means is that you and I need to teach her how to help us. This means not leaving her behind when you go to work the fields, and not abandoning her to the garden without any idea of what to do or where to start. I wish you had gotten to meet her today," Kakashi looked wistful at the thought. Kakawhis was an idealist to the core, and Tenzou considered himself lucky that that idealism was only brought out when it was mildly palatable. The rest of the time, Kakashi was nearly as practical as himself. Kind of. The man was prone to daydreams, which although common didn't typically interfere with his work. Tenzou missed the slight grin which showed briefly in the crows feet at the corners of Kakashi's eyes.

"That is why I insisted that they stay one more day, so that they could meet you. Sakura does deserve to know about as much of my life as possible before we get married." —so it was already agreed upon— "And of course tomorrow Asuma, her father, and myself must draw up the terms which we went over today. It would have been easier had you been here, Tenzou." The brown haired man scowled deeply, and his reply was terse.

"Fields. Weeds. Guests.  Upstart demon gir—! " the back of Kakashi's hand met the side of his head faster than he could speak or even think. It was amazing that his sleeve hadn't caught fire or knocked anything over, but as soon as Tenzou felt he could see properly again his companion was quietly settled back down across the flames. The lone black eye which Kakashi fixed on him was unreadable, as well as his face. It was as though he was wearing a mask, even as he began to speak.

"You will never refer to Sakura that way, or in any other poorly thought out manner. I treat you like an equal because I believe you are a good man whose situation is the fault of your betters and not your own folly. However that bond of equality ends when and where Sakura comes into the question, unless you choose to treat her with the same level of respect and dignity which I will afford her. If you cannot, we will be at an impasse, and your future becomes rather hazy from my point of view. Do we understand one another?" Tenzou's ear stung, but he nodded. Now was not the time to bring up the fact that he thought the girl would not help, that he thought her to be too far removed from work to ever be useful around the Hatake farmlands.

But on the other hand, if Kakashi had faith in her then it just might be warranted faith. Kakashi was careful in the people he trusted, and if he was putting trust in Haru no Sakura then perhaps this might turn out alright. Tenzou doubted it though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: Ryo is Rock Lee. I just...couldn't...bring myself to use his actual name. So: Ryo = Lee.
> 
> This story is set as starting in the summer of 1656. These two will be getting hitched, in the story, in spring of 1657 after Sakura's 17th birthday. She is from a village called Iimori in the mountains, Kakashi is from a place called Fujimi in the lower valley areas.

The summer sun refused to allow the fog of the morning to linger as long as it had the previous morning, and so they planned to set out from the inn much earlier in the day. Sakura's mother, Ume, wept with relief as she combed Sakura's hair into an elegant bun, the more conservative hairstyle of an engaged woman. She had started to believe that a day such as this would never come, not for her Sakura. More than a year ago, she and Masaki had gotten their hopes up that the village lord would allow his son, Ryo, to marry Sakura. He was the fifth son of a large house in the city of Edo, and had been adopted to better financial fortunes by a cousin of his father's. He had arrived in their village two years ago, and he had been in love with Sakura since almost the moment he had stepped into the village and laid eyes on her. He claimed that she was the person who made his life in the country not only bearable, but enjoyable. The young samurai had even gone so far as to formally speak to Masaki about marrying Sakura, and many hopes of a happy marriage had been expressed between the two men. Those hopes had been dashed when Ryo's adoptive father had forbidden his son to even associate with their family any more, and the only thing which had comforted them was that Sakura was not attached to the young man.

Life was very different for Sakura than it had been for Ume, whose father had been a tall and imposing figure compared to the statures of native Japanese men. Oran Farren— Farren-san , kept because a surname allowed those who met him to express their puzzlement  about  him  at him—had been a sailor on a merchant vessel who had decided to stay in Japan rather than go back to a life of poverty wherever he'd come from before. He had lived in Edo for a few years before relocating to the countryside—the capital was no place for a red-headed foreigner, and he'd eventually found a wife in the mountain village he settled in. Ume was his only daughter, which, he confided to her on her wedding day, he was glad for. Oran had in essence monetarily bullied Masaki's family into the marriage, and in his fifties Oran felt too tired to have ever tried repeating the experience. That fight to get his daughter married served as magnification of Sakura's position, since there was a little less prejudice against Ume when she had been Sakura's age than her pink haired daughter experienced these days, because there had been a few more foreigners on the ground, or at least heard of, when Ume had been young. The shogun had banned foreigners from entering Japan, however, before Sakura was even born—and men like Oran had been few and far between even before the ban. Masaki was not the extroverted foreigner that Oran had been, and he was unwilling to step on toes to get his daughter married, preferring to wait for someone to step forward of their own volition.

So with no one to truly stand up for her in her own village, her daughter was well on her way to becoming an old maid, or worse. It was this striking turn of events, as unexpected as blossoms in winter, which changed Sakura's fortunes. Ume was overjoyed for her daughter, who was set to marry out of the merchant class to a man who seemed that he would treat her well. The sadness of seeing her pink haired little girl this morning was alleviated by both the thought of Hatake Kakashi as well as the knowledge that Sakura would not have to endure a cruel mother-in-law or a stern father-in-law. She assured herself that Sakura was getting the far better end of the deal, marrying Kakashi—he could choose from a far larger group of women than Sakura could of men, and it was every woman's dream to not have a mother-in-law to whom she was enslaved. Masaki's mother had threatened to confiscate all of the beautiful hair ornaments which she had been given for her wedding, and Ume had hated her until the woman's last breath a dozen years ago. But even before her mother-in-law's death, she had won, she reminded herself as she tucked the last strands of Sakura's delicate pink hair into the bun. Ume petted at the beautiful, painted wooden combs which she herself had worn the day she and Masaki were engaged, some eighteen years ago now. They were the combs which her father had bought for her mother, Tsukiko, to prove his affection to both Tsukiko and her family. Tsukiko had given them to her orange-haired daughter as an early wedding present and the start of an heirloom collection, and here Ume was, giving them to her pink haired daughter on the day of her engagement.

Asuma and his wife joined them later on for a small breakfast, rice, miso, and natto. They spent the meal in relative quiet, listening mostly to Asuma's vivid descriptions of Kakashi's servant, Tenzou. He was apparently a man of similar stature to Asuma, but of a painfully practical personality, near to the point of idiocy. Ume could tell that her daughter was entranced by his tales, such as the failed bamboo experiment, the mystery of the missing fish, and several others—each perpetrated on him by either Kakashi or Asuma in their youth. The best compliment of the morning came from Kurenai, who commented on the nature of Sakura's laugh. When they finally left, halfway through the morning, it seemed that nothing could contain Sakura's ebullient mood. Ume watched in helpless and slightly worried bemusement as her daughter spoke with a liveliness to her voice which did not seem quite appropriate—they were walking towards the lands of the man who would end Sakura's time as a daughter and have her begin her time as a wife. This time in a woman's life was supposed to be one of seriousness, almost mourning. But Ume didn't have the heart to tell her daughter that, not on this happy and quite unreal day.

As they arrived to Kakashi's home, the day became even less formal and strict. The singing which had been only faintly heard the day before, and only truly understandable when outside, had moved much closer to the house—likely coming from the garden. Ume marveled that on what had been a serious occasion for herself and Masaki was today lighthearted in its tone from each side of the agreement. Her daughter had just spent the morning of her official engagement laughing, and here singing could be heard in the garden which in less than a year would be her own. Ume could only— privately, quietly —gaze open mouthed at the warmth in the white haired samurai's face as he greeted his guests and allowed them into his home yet again. She had never seen a man so happy to be married—excepting, possibly, Ryo, but he was generally excitable as a rule. As she thought, she glanced speculatively at Masaki—he was three years older than herself, and when they had gotten married he been truly ambivalent towards her for the first few years, mostly leaving her to the devices of his horrid mother. They had been matched because of money, just as Sakura was to be matched, but Masaki had only acquired a happier spring to his step just before Sakura was born—thinking, no doubt, that he was about to have a son. This samurai walked as though he already  had a son and was eagerly awaiting the birth of a second.

* * *

 

The actual agreement between the two families, mediated by Asuma of course, was fairly simple. Kakashi readily agreed to the terms which his friend and Masaki brought, asking his own terms as well—building supplies for the room which he would add to his home in preparation for Sakura's arrival, among other things. They also set down a good date for a marriage ceremony, in the middle of the following spring. It was decided that it would be unfeasibly soon for the couple to marry within the summer, and unlucky for them to marry in fall or winter, and Kakashi firmly made it known that he and Sakura had discussed a spring wedding—he failed to make mention of the length or detail of the discussion, however, because it was a private matter between him and his future wife.

The women were not present for this, which Kakashi felt was mainly to shield Sakura from feeling as though her family were shipping her away to a new village, and neither was Tenzou. Kakashi's servant had laid out the terms which Kakashi needed to fight for, and the ones he shouldn't accept—at least in his mind—and then the brown haired man had gone out to begin the day's chores. Those chores typically weren't so numerous, but they had each felt that it would be better if Kakashi weren't distracted by what needed to be done and when, and so Tenzou was taking care of them all. The last he had heard from his servant, shortly before Asuma had arrived with Sakura's family, was that the next project was the garden.

They called it  Sakumo no niwa,  Sakumo's garden, because Tenzou had been hired on many years after Kakashi's mother had died, and since Sakumo maintained it to keep the memory of his wife alive, they called it his and had little to do with it. It was in this last year since the elder Hatake's death that either himself or Tenzou maintained it, ensuring that the tiny crop of household vegetables was healthy and that none of the trees were disrupting the fence. Kakashi had lain awake the previous night, thinking about everything he was going to have to teach Sakura, or if he even should. She had mentioned the day before that she excelled at embroidery, but that the sumptuary laws for non-samurai prevented her from actually doing very much of it for herself or her family. There had been no  mourning for this in her tone, but the feeling wormed itself through Kakashi that he might never have to have Sakura join himself and Tenzou in keeping the farm going, if she could just take in a bit of work embroidering for the village women.

If the village women would even take their embroidery work to her. Kakashi knew that not everyone in the world was as strange as he. The stunning conversation of last night with Tenzou, the resultant blow he'd cuffed against his servant's ear, had illuminated that fact painfully. Even Tenzou, who should know better than most the dire predicament which faced the Hatake house, was instantly prejudiced against Sakura. As he spoke with his future father-in-law about less serious things than marriage and exchanges of dowry, Kakashi knew in the back of his mind that it would take far longer than he'd like for his village to accept Sakura. All they would see would be someone  Other rather than the infectiously warm young woman Kakashi saw. The thought struck him that perhaps it was a good thing that he lived an hour's walk from town, his closest neighbor being Asuma, who kept a house for himself and his wife at the far end of the east field. It was a good thing because his wife would not be subject to the daily gossip, and that she would be accompanied by Tenzou whenever she needed to go to the village. She would also have Kurenai, Asuma's wife, close by for someone to talk to.

* * *

 

Kurenai and her mother somehow managed to begin discussing children—Kurenai expressing her hopes of becoming a mother, Ume sharing her insights—and while Sakura knew she should pay attention, she just couldn't bring herself to. At the heady pace everything was going, she was not sure she could cope with mentally preparing for potential children—she herself had been cursed with her mother's hair, who was to say that she wouldn't pass it on to her own children? And thinking about children also carried with it the implication of the things which would be expected of her, of the great gap of understanding between herself and Kakashi. He seemed a nice man, a good man, but she knew so little about him that a measure of intimidation had returned between the previous evening and this morning. She knew nothing of what he might want from her, not really.

It was when her mother and her future neighbor started to shoot knowing little glances at her that Sakura decided to leave them in the small room which they'd settled in—she needed out, away from these older women who were keeping secrets, away from the indistinct murmurs of her father and his companions—her feet remembered the way, even as her mind did not, taking her to the back of the house to the garden. As she slid the door open, the singing, which they had been hearing all morning, abruptly stopped.

So this was Tenzou, then, with his hands buried wrist deep in the onion patch. They sat still for a moment, staring at one another—Sakura with her hand still on the shoji, one foot outside, and Tenzou kneeling, crouched over his work. As the moment stretched and he didn't speak, Sakura took another step onto the porch, her hand rising from the doorframe to cover her mouth politely. She fiercely repressed a giggle at this wooden looking man—a stick in the mud—but there was something weary and resigned in his look which effectively killed that silliness before it had a chance to completely ruin his first impression of her. She had to save that ruination for her greeting, eloquent as it was.

"You seem very well today," she said after arranging herself on the porch. Something twisted inside herself immediately at the botched introduction— Introduce yourself, ask their name, compliment , her mother's voice drilled into her ear a moment too late—but Tenzou sighed and attempted to lose himself to intense contemplation of the radishes which he turned to after the onions had been properly tended.

She cast around for some sort of neutral conversation since he seemed determined not to speak to her on his own. He wasn't mute by any means, or they had all been hearing a spirit for the last day and a half. To her further horror—this man would become her karma for not having a living mother-in-law, she began to think—all that came out as follow-up to "You seem very well today," was an observation on radishes, particularly, "What is your favorite dish to prepare with radishes?" Tenzou stopped cold, and shot an insolent look up from said radishes at her, but since they were going to be sharing this household with one another within a year, Sakura doubled the insolence and shot a look right back at him. It wouldn't do to let him think he could bully her in the expectation that she would allow herself to be bullied—she was marrying a samurai, which meant that, even though she was the woman of the house, she was several levels higher than he was.

They remained in silence for a few minutes more, the only sounds being those of nature and of the ripping sound of weeds being pulled. This was when Sakura not only sealed the deal on Tenzou's impression of her, but fought back against his silence in the manner which her grandmother Tsukiko had fought back against Oran-jii-chan's periodic insolence: with fire. Tsukiko-baa-chan would begin to have one-sided conversations with jii-chan, responding to his unvoiced half. It usually did the trick of dragging him out of whatever funk he had gotten himself into.

"Well, that is certainly one way to prepare them, but then they just dominate everything. What you should do is slice them up and add them to the miso only just before serving it, that way their flavor gets into the broth but they stay crunchy. It's how my mother makes miso in the winter, when it's harder to find fresh things and have them last as long as possible. I can help you—"

A stifled giggle sounded behind her from the house, and both she and Tenzou looked up to see Kakashi leaning up against the doorframe, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other wrapped around his middle. Sakura couldn't vouch for Tenzou, but she was so shocked at Kakashi's reaction that she could only gape at his behavior. Behavior which continued for several more seconds before he managed to reign himself into a more composed man. Mirth still bubbled in him, she could tell, at the tremble of his lips whenever he glanced between her and his servant.

"Sakura, I see you've met Tenzou already." He stretched out a hand to help her get up and once she stood next to him, arranged her hands on his arm. "I apologize for not introducing you formally yesterday, but Tenzou was suffering me a day of rest and he was much occupied. Tenzou, this is Sakura, my fiancée. I'm glad the two of you had a chance to speak together," he looked like he was going to burst into giggling yet again at this, "before Sakura's family returned to the village today, and before they return to their own home tomorrow."

Tenzou gave his master a long, measured look—a look which Sakura was sure spoke volumes between the two men, but left her a little out of the loop—and scrubbed his dirty hands together for a moment before anchoring them on his hips and executing a low bow from his kneel, murmuring, "You have my congratulations, Hatake-sama, I hope that Sakura-san and yourself will have good fortune." Once he lifted himself out of his bow, Kakashi held his eyes for a moment longer than seemed comfortable. At least for Sakura it seemed a little too long, mostly because it gave her the chance to feel the warmth of his arm coming through his sleeve as well as the tingle of good cotton under her palms. This moment was precisely why she had tried to escape from her mother and Kurenai's discussion—how could she possibly begin to really know Kakashi, how could she really do this?

"Thank you, we have hopes of that as well." How could she become part of a new "we," one other than the one her father used?

* * *

Tenzou was left to his own devices for a second night in a row for dinner. It was going to be miso and fish again, because they saved a lot of their vegetables by having something simple a few nights a week. It was when his eye fell to a stray runt of a radish—fiendishly wandering from its pile—that a strange mood came over him. The soup was just nearly done, and had next to nothing with it than rice and boiled fish. A very short time later, a nice radish, freshly cut, found its way quickly into the nearly-finished soup, which then found its fully finished way to his master's table and to his own. It was the first time in a long time that he actually finished before Kakashi, who ate notoriously fast, and refilled their bowls with the dregs of the soup, serving the very last drop of the delicious broth. Perhaps the oni onna wasn't so bad—her soup tip had made an excellent meal for them, and at the cost of a radish almost too small to keep.

* * *

 

It was a certain look in Masaki's eyes that told him. Kakashi did not exactly pride himself on his intuitions, but he had known when Sakura's father was trying to find the words to say his goodbyes so that the family could get back to the inn and prepare for their journey home. He supposed he could look on that ability with a certain amount of pride, but it didn't feel right to feel pride in what was not an accomplishment. So he had quietly excused himself under the pretense of officially asking Sakura for her hand—far better than an excuse of finding his wayward servant. The pink haired young woman was not to be found in the small sitting room occupied by her mother and Kurenai, but they pointed him in the right direction.

Something, another intuition perhaps, advised him to keep his steps silent as he approached the open door. He could just see Sakura's kimono, a dark blue rather than the black he had originally assumed earlier in the day, and hear her voice. She was seated on the wrap-around porch which his grandfather had built onto the house after receiving direct permission to do so from the shogun himself—for bravery in battle. The Hatake lands were never very greatly esteemed, but his family had always felt that personal estimation and deep bonds of respect and benevolence between samurai and lord were more important. The permission to add onto what was already a sizeable home compared to the family income was treasured, and Kakashi had already secured his own permission days ago to build if he were to marry. While not trusting the daimyo with the knowledge of just who he planned on marrying left a bitter taste in his mouth, Kakashi felt it was better to ask for forgiveness in this particular case.

He wasn't sure, but hearing Sakura's one-sided conversation with Tenzou was enough for him to fully justify marrying her. Asuma was right, she would bring light and laughter in with her. Hopefully Asuma's prediction would hold true concerning Tenzou, as well—that the brown haired man would eventually learn to like the girl. At least he might learn to respond to her verbally.

"What is your favorite way dish to prepare with radishes?" there was a note of awkwardness in her voice, but a hope that she would get a response was there also. Kakashi knew that if Tenzou had his way he would put radishes with everything, but apparently Tenzou didn't think Sakura needed to know that because Sakura's words were met with a stony silence. Deciding he couldn't understand the situation well enough from his position, hidden in the shadows near the door, he moved to lean just slightly against the door post. He didn't make a sound, hardly breathing so as to keep his presence unknown for as long as possible.

Sakura had an angry fidget to one of her hands, the one resting out of Tenzou's sight on the deck. But Kakashi could see it, and congratulated himself on his assessment of the previous day—that there was a very fierce woman locked up inside of Sakura somewhere. She just hid it well. It was when she straightened her back and subtly relaxed her shoulders that Kakashi felt a laugh trying to pry its way out of him. When she started to speak, and he realized what she was doing, he had to clamp a hand over his mouth.

"Well, that is certainly one way to prepare them, but then they just dominate everything. What you should do is slice them up and add them to the miso only just before serving it, that way their flavor gets into the broth but they stay crunchy." Tenzou continued to ignore her, which only made the laughter try harder to get out, so he tried to stop the giggling from its source in his middle," It's how my mother makes miso in the winter, when it's harder to find fresh things and have them last as long as possible. I can help you—" he failed, but then he had known he was going to fail, and as Sakura and Tenzou looked up at him he couldn't fight it any longer. His laughter was stifled, not the deep-chested laughter which Asuma delighted in, nor was it the half chuckles which could sometimes be dragged out of Tenzou, it was pure giggling. After only a few seconds—which he thought was reasonable compared to how long he'd been trying not to laugh—he had calmed enough to speak normally, a tinge of amusement still in his voice.

"Sakura, I see you've met Tenzou already…"

* * *

 

In the middle of winter it was a two day journey from Fujimi to Iimori, but Asuma had promised to look after things for a full seven days—leaving a good three days to spend in Iimori. Tenzou had grumped and growled for weeks leading up to the trip, but Kakashi was adamant. And at the end of the day, he was the one who made the decisions, so to Iimori they went. It was mostly a direct path towards the mountain town where Sakura lived, but as night had begun to fall they were only at the beginning of the foothills of Iimori-yama, the mountain from which the town got its name. Rather than arrive in the middle of the night, they backtracked about a mile to an inn. Kakashi's father had meant something dear to the owner, apparently, because he charged them half of his usual rate for a samurai of Kakashi's level. He was grateful towards the man, making a note to himself to tell the lord of Fujimi—a distant uncle of Asuma's—of the man's generosity. That way when Sarutobi-sama next travelled he took with him the other half, so that the innkeeper wouldn't be short when taxes were collected.

The next morning was fiercely cold, and Kakashi was never gladder to live in a lower area which experienced winter in milder terms. But the morning dawned without snow, which is what Kakashi had prayed for the previous evening after the meal, so before he accepted his breakfast he made a detour to the small shrine to offer his thanks. Sometimes he wasn't sure that the spirits listened, but he continued to pray each day, and give thanks when his prayers were answered. Not every prayer was answered, but Kakashi was not so arrogant as to assume they would be.

Tenzou made a habit of praying after his breakfast, bringing in a separate small plate or bowl to leave as offering, and they passed one another in the hallway as Kakashi left. They never asked after the prayers which either of them left, because they had found years ago that they rarely prayed for the same things—the gods and ancestors never heard the same prayer too many times, which likely pleased them. The innkeeper had prepared only okayu with umeboshi and chicken for breakfast, but Kakashi couldn't complain as the man had wholly undercharged him for a night in a room shared only with Tenzou. It was hearty food, and warm, which would serve them well on their last push up into the hills to reach the village proper of Iimori.

It was as they set out that Tenzou seemed to decide to get rid of the last of his grumps. Although it had been months since Kakashi had raised a hand against him, he had hedged his words carefully talking about Sakura and about the expense of the trip to visit her. The litany had run from out of ear-shot of the inn at Fujimi until almost within earshot of the one they'd rested at the night before.

"If the roads were going to be frozen stiff why couldn't we have saved our money and not purchased proper winter boots? Couldn't we have made do with sandals and tabi?" Kakashi had felt it only his duty to answer the question which his increasingly inquisitive servant came up with.

"Because Genma-san doesn't have three of his toes from pinching his purse in that very way. I cannot in good conscience allow you, Tenzou, to go without boots. It shows poor attention to the needs of one's helpers. And so we had some made. But I also cannot travel with you wearing my own sandals and tabi as you wear new boots—that would look unseemly. So we commissioned a pair for myself as well. Now, the Hatake household is in the possession of two good pairs of new boots which will hopefully last for more than a few winters."

They reached Iimori at around midday, chilled and in need of directions to the merchant's warehouse. The man at the small gatehouse directed them to stay on the main road, and that they would see the Spring Merchant's shop after a hundred or so paces. Kakashi carefully avoided scowling at the terminology of Sakura's family, knowing that he had no authority to correct the man. Tenzou wasn't expected to speak, and kept his council to himself.

Masaki's store was indeed in a prominent place, easily seen from the road. There were no signs on it indicating it belonged to the "Springtime Merchant," which Kakashi was glad for. He didn't like how deeply prejudice seemed to run, and it was good to see that Masaki had not internalized that prejudice into advertising. As they went in, Kakashi gestured to Tenzou that the man should take a look at any purchases he felt they needed, either for the return journey or in general. Kakashi himself went to the back to seek out his future father-in-law. The man, shorter than himself by a good few inches, looked harried as he spoke with an employee, and his terse mood didn't lift as he noticed Kakashi.

"Hatake-san, please wait just a moment right over there," he pointed to the far corner where one might be able to kneel comfortably, and Kakashi took him up on it. "I will be right back, I have to make sure this boy," the employee cowered slightly, "knows his duties for the rest of the day. We will go to my home once he does." With that the merchant grabbed his aid by the ear and was about to drag him off before his back went straight as though someone had delivered a blow to him. Hand still firmly grasping the servant boy's ear, Masaki turned on a heel and bowed shortly to Kakashi.

"I hope your journey was not too hard, and that you will find my home a pleasant place to have come so far to see." Kakashi returned the bow and made his way to the corner to wait. He focused on the sounds surrounding him—the crackling of a fire, Masaki's raised voice in a backroom somewhere, Tenzou muttering figures as he looked at dried goods, the footsteps of someone new entering the shop. He was used to quiet, living two miles away from the village-proper of Fujimi, but this was an eerie quiet here in Iimori. It was in this stillness that a voice murmured, a voice which Kakashi was well able to focus on in the silence of his corner.

"Did you see that samurai come into the village?"

"Yes, he must be the one they tricked into taking the oni onna off their hands. I heard from my sister-in-law that the mother wove spells to make the girl's hair look normal, and make her hands soft."

"Poor man, probably under an enchantment even now. And then he will be in the same manner as Masaki was all those years ag—" the unknown customers were saved the experience of meeting a quite irate samurai by the reappearance of Masaki, looking a little less flustered than he had minutes before. Kakashi made no mention of the gossip he had overheard to the merchant as they collected Tenzou (from ogling the prices of fermented beans), nor even as they bundled their feet and headed out into the cold air. If Masaki were wholly unaware of his family's situation, Kakashi felt it cruel to enlighten him. But merchants were not known for being stupid, in which case Kakashi felt it doubly cruel to admit pity towards an unchangeable situation.

The merchant's house was smaller than Kakashi had thought it would be, given how wealthy Masaki was, but once inside his mind was quickly changed. The floors were covered in exquisite tatami, and the rice paper in the shoji was the cleanest white he might have ever seen. The roof was thick to keep out the snow, and once they were inside the inner rooms the chill was greatly diminished. Still not as warm as his own home was in the middle of winter, but certainly livable. Sakura and Ume were bundled close to the hibachi in the middle of the room, blankets surrounding their legs and feet. Ume was mending a broken strap on a sandal, and Sakura was working in what looked like a balancing book. The women's low conversation stopped as the three men stepped into the room before Ume extracted herself from her warm nest. Sakura followed suit immediately.

In an instant Kakashi had been relieved of his burdens, with Tenzou getting similar treatment. They were quickly bundled to the ofuro to wash away the road, and were joined by Masaki who was similarly relegated to wash away the warehouse. The air in the room was chilled, but the water in the bath had been over a glowing bed of coals for hours and was searing. As they washed and relaxed, conversation drifted between them.

"Your man back at your shop, is he really so incompetent?" Tenzou's question had Kakashi interested as well, as Masaki chuckled softly in reply.

"Not usually. He is good enough that I can leave the store in his hands for a few days, but he is not quite so good that I can leave him directionless while I'm at it," he said, standing and getting out of the water so he could rinse again. There was a slight apprehension to his glance, but apparently he decided he was allowed to speak as he wanted to.

"I once thought of uniting him with Sakura and adopting him so that I could have a son befitting my station in life. But he is of a traveling way, and along with his travels rumors have come that he is not exactly kind to women. I am not so strong as my father-in-law was, I cannot ignore my daughter's happiness in favor of her well-being."

"I'm sure that your father-in-law—" Tenzou politely began after Kakashi said nothing.

"My father-in-law should never have forced his daughter into marrying anyone. Ume is a wonderful woman, but she did not want to marry me and I did not want to marry her. My own life has shown me that Sakura needed someone wholly unlike myself." It went unspoken that when held up for comparison, marriage to a merchant was unattractive compared to marriage to a higher class individual, and, all other things being equal, Kakashi's offer would have still trumped. The somber mood was broken by Masaki's sudden smile.

"And one can't get much farther from a mountain village merchant than yourself, Kakashi-san. My daughter is marrying a brave, local hero who will take her out of this town and give her her own household to run, with no mother-in-law either. Now I will also have a reason to trade in Fujimi more often, as my only child will be there. You couldn't have made a lord happier with this arrangement."

* * *

 

Kakashi tried not to stare at Sakura's hair, marveling at the changes which firelight brought out in it. It had been five months since he had seen his fiancée, and the sheer  pinkness of Sakura's hair was something new yet again. They lived only nineteen miles apart, but they each had duties to attend to and had not visited since the summer. He had a farm to run, and she had to help her father with his business, as well as her mother with running their house. It was only because of his mother's uchikake that he had arranged for the trip at all. The flamboyant red garment had been on the shoulders of three previous women in his family, and Kakashi fully intended on having Sakura wear it. The rest of her wedding outfit was being taken care of by her family, but it was the celebration kimono which he wanted to and was able to give her.

Rather than wait until days before their wedding in the spring, Kakashi decided to deliver it to Sakura himself. It was how things were supposed to be done, after-all. He had simply ignored tradition earlier that year out of desperation, but now that life was secure again he could indulge in some of his more neurotic, tradition-focused tendencies. As two families, with Kakashi representing the entirety of his own, they exchanged the traditional gifts which had been forgotten during the summer. A beautiful obi for Sakura, somber black hakama for Kakashi, among other things. Later after they had changed out of their day clothing into comfortable yukata and as Sakura and her mother spread out a pair of futons for their guests, he briefly wondered if he should beg some time alone with Sakura. Once the futons were arranged, however, the brief thought was quickly forgotten as Ume ushered Tenzou and Kakashi to the door of the room.

"You are to do nothing to her, this is her doing and she does  not know what she is doing," she nearly hissed at Kakashi before escaping with Tenzou in tow. The white haired man could only stand ramrod straight looking into the dark hallway after where his future mother-in-law had absconded with his servant. When he had wondered for alone time, he had certainly not meant this.

"You should close that door, you'll let the warmth from the fire out if you don't." Stiffly he grasped the edge of the panel and slid it so that he faced rice paper rather than darkness. Just as slowly and reluctantly he turned and walked back to where one of the futons was laid out. Sakura was already tucked into hers, the firelight playing in interesting ways across her face. Kakashi knelt and wrapped himself in his own blankets, facing her, propping himself up on an elbow. He let his silence ask his questions for him. Sakura blushed and looked away.

"One of my friends married for affection, and since her parents trusted her fiancé they let them sleep in the same room. I thought we could talk for a little while by ourselves. Ask each other things, so that we know each other a little before we get married. Like what your eye is like."

"You want to know what my eye looks like?" So many people deflected from mentioning his injury, his disability, that it surprised him that she was curious. Sakura gave a tiny nod, the shadows on her face and in her hair doing interesting things to a tight feeling in his throat. Kakashi sighed and sank down to lay correctly on his pillow, contemplating how to tell her this particular story.

"It's alright if you don't want to," her voice was small. Kakashi shook his head against her, turning to lay on his side again so he could face her as he spoke.

"No, it's fine. It's fine. Last year, around this time, the peasants outside of Fujimi started to grumble. It was everywhere in this area, I'm sure you remember. My village's samurai were given the task of quelling it…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins 3 or so months after the last one. 
> 
> Okay in this chapter we've got the wedding. I left out the elaborate preparations for it, the getting dressed, etc, etc, because frankly I didn't feel like my research on that matter was quite up to par. I did find a few lovely sites which helped me piece together the ceremony but even those felt incomplete and so it's sort of vague and I apologize for that. But yes, traditional Shinto weddings are quite simple, no the bride and groom do not: kiss, exchange rings, or face each other, so don't complain that Sakura and Kakashi don't. Also I allude to the fact that Asuma's family is standing in for Kakashi's-that's because the families face one another but Kakashi doesn't have any family left, so his best friend stands in. Yeah.

Kakashi woke to the sound of a shoji door sliding open. It wasn't yet dawn, and Sakura's mother was already awake. He contained a groan at the early hour, the previous day's cold journey catching up with him to some extent. There was nothing he wanted more that morning than to curl up in his futon and stay warm. Sakura had peppered him with questions the night before, and they had talked together for a few hours. She had dozed off in the middle of a question, her cheek pillowed on her head rest. Glancing over at her in the darkness as Ume pottered with the fire, a smile ticked at his mouth. Her hair almost looked purple in the low light, a far-cry from the fiery hues which had fascinated him the night before as they spoke.

If Ume was awake she would probably appreciate some help, so he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His elbow knocked his headrest away and he scowled at it. At home Kakashi preferred comfort rather than the appearance of his hair each morning, and slept with a pillow rather than a headrest. He was wholly unused to how one treated headrests, with the various rituals associated with them, but he knew enough that after knocking it around he was supposed to in essence apologize to it. He decided he would do that  after he felt awake, which would be  after he got dressed, and not a moment  before . Headrests were for people who could afford having hairstyles, or for people who wanted hairstyles. He was neither. The headrest would be replaced and apologized to later.

The shoji slid again and Tenzou appeared, already dressed for the day. Kakashi almost shrugged himself back into his blankets in resignation. He was old if Tenzou was waking up before him—dressed before Kakashi had even gotten out of bed. Sakura mumbled a little in her sleep, turning away from the growing light of the fire as Ume unbanked it to start cooking breakfast. From his half-sitting position, Kakashi couldn't help but envy her deep sleep. It had been pleasant to talk to her about life the previous evening, but telling her about his injury had had Kakashi sleeping fitfully. Dreams of the past, not nightmares, had plagued him. Obito's dying words, his wish that Kakashi make sure Rin knew how much the Uchiwa had cared for her, his father on a litter owned by the Sarutobi clan—gasping at every rocking motion, the lines of worry etched into Sarutobi-sama's face as he looked for his nephew in the group which had returned, and the sight of Obito's lifeless body at the Uchiwa family funeral.

He hadn't told any of that to Sakura. She would know eventually, but those weeks spent in the countryside fighting rebels had been far too terrible to recount to a woman he barely knew and wanted to impress. He told her about the daring fight when he had lost his eye, about how Obito had saved his and his father's life shortly after, of Asuma's constant whining about being away from Kurenai. He told the few parts of the tale which made her smile, ones which had him smiling back at her in the growing darkness as the banked fire had burned even lower.

"Kakashi," his eye tracked over to Tenzou's face as the brown haired man waited awkwardly for the samurai's attention. Tenzou's voice was soft, as though he were trying not to wake Sakura. Kakashi almost wondered if it might benefit both of them to see how much noise she  could sleep through but decided that it might be taken well if he were to use a practical joke to wake her up in her own home. She would probably hit him, or Tenzou.

"I have your clothing in the washroom. The water is still fairly warm as well, which was a happy discovery this morning." There was a certain slyness to his servant's tone that had Kakashi narrowing his eye at the younger man, half contemplating asking an embarrassing question about the possible presence of previous  unhappy discoveries involving Tenzou's history with morning baths. It was true that lately they had only been heating their wash water until it was pleasantly warm in the evening, but stone cold by morning, but he had only failed to tell that to Tenzou  once .

As he got out of bed Sakura started to wake, rubbing at her face as she tossed a little. Kakashi felt the breath go out of himself for a moment, watching her. It had been years since he had watched a woman wake up, let alone as slowly and innocently as she did. He almost had to tear himself away, and only the somewhat hollow reassurance that, in a few months, they would always wake up next to one another gave him the willpower to leave.

After breakfast Kakashi caught Masaki as the man was about to leave for the day, intent on making sure that his shop was opened up correctly. The straight set to his mouth and the slight squint to his eyes told the world that he did not expect his employees to have handled themselves correctly since the previous afternoon. Kakashi took care to keep his tone light, undemanding.

"Masaki, is there anything I or Tenzou can do for you while we are here? Any repairs, or something to be built?" The shorter man hesitated for a half second, his eyes subtly flicking around the house before his gaze finally found where Sakura and Ume had settled themselves. The squint in his eyes eased somewhat at the sight, it seemed, and the breath he took to speak was relaxed.

"You are here to get to know my daughter, so what you can do for me is to do that. As for Tenzou-kun, I believe my wife would know far better what needs to be done," at this his voice raised a little to get Ume's attention, "If the shop hasn't burned down I might be back at midday, if it has I will try to return before nightfall." And with that he was gone, and Ume was calling Tenzou over to set him to moving firewood inside. Kakashi listened, from where he stood, to her instructions as well and moved to follow his servant outside.

"Kakashi-san, I would prefer it if you came to sit with Sakura and I," Ume's voice had a particular quality to it, one which Kakashi could have sworn he had heard once before—a playful attitude with a touch of crazy, almost. Because of that touch of crazy he moved cautiously back to where the two women sat around the fire and gingerly tucked himself into the blankets they had laid out—probably strategically, too, he noted as he ended up much nearer to Sakura than Ume. He must have looked concerned, or some consternation must have made itself available on his face, because Sakura smiled sweetly at him before launching into an explanation.

"We don't do much in the winter, my father wants us both inside and warm. Anything which he needs help with outside he will bully one of his employees into helping him with. Or sometimes Ry—" It was out of the corner of his eye that he caught the tiny, silencing move of Ume's hand as Sakura spoke, and the young woman quickly changed tack, "Sometimes one of the men from the village will offer to help him, he can be fairly adamant and so Father will give him a small job just to get him to go home. He can be quite persistent." A brief surge of curiosity coursed through him at the scene he wasn't supposed to see, but he kept it to himself. They couldn't burn through their conversation topics in a single day, so Kakashi changed the subject after a polite, "if only more people would follow such an example."

"Sakura I seem to remember that you embroider?" Her eyes, the color of grass, widened happily at his words and her hands twitched in excitement as she replied.

"Yes, would you like to see what I've been working on?" At his nod she was quickly standing and retreating into the house. The sudden loss of her warmth was felt immediately as his left side seemed much colder than it had only moments before. He smoothed a hand over the rumpled blanket Sakura had left behind in her haste, almost absently tracing the pattern with his index finger. Across from him Ume was writing what seemed to be a list with a scarily familiar glint to her half-smile.

The sound of Sakura's quick footsteps returning had him turning his attention up towards her, and as he saw a similar smile on her face he realized why Ume's tics seemed to trigger memories—the last time he had seen and spent time with Sakura he had witnessed and admired her personality and quirks. It made sense that she would take after her mother, and that she had picked up certain manners and habits from the woman. Unbeknownst to him, as he was re-seeing her, she was re-seeing him as well. When she had returned to Iimori after becoming engaged, her first few nights home were marked by fitful sleeping as she remembered Kakashi and worried.

Worry was new to her, and it had settled into her stomach unpleasantly for the last several months that the man she was marrying was only six years younger than her father, that he would ignore her and take a mistress and claim that woman's children as his own, that she would somehow be a horrible wife. She hadn't taken her concerns to her mother or father because they loved her despite all of the troubles her pink hair had brought them, and she was uncertain about whether they would choose her happiness or her wellbeing. But seeing Kakashi coming into the house behind her father had somehow allayed the fears of the past months. There was a strange calmness to him which was a balm to her spirit, he didn't seem capable of the things which had worried her for months.

She settled back into the blankets, warmed on the right side by Kakashi and Sakura moved subtly closer to that warmth since her side had gone cold in her absence. With a little pride mixed with a touch of shyness she handed her latest project to her fiancé. As he gently touched her work and gave it his complete attention, she looked at his profile and tried yet again to commit it to memory. His face had faded so quickly from her memory from their meeting in the summer, only his shocking white hair and his sad, serious eye had remained to any extent. She hadn't seen his blind eye all those months ago. That eye hadn't clouded over as most blind eyes she had ever seen—two sets, her grandfather's eyes and the eyes of her childhood tutor—rather taking a stained reddish hue which had looked like it was blood red in the firelight the night before. It served to remind her that he was a warrior, toughened by that life.

The picture he had painted the night before had been sweeping and grand, but it was a picture in which he tried to minimize himself. He downplayed every triumph he had had and magnified those of others, and Sakura had noticed. The tale was still wonderful and engaging, but the short periods of silence gave away that he was editing the experience as he spoke. She wasn't sure he was editing himself out or the nastier sides to war. But as he turned the fabric he held to see new angles, giving light praise at what he saw, she felt that he was as genuine here as he had been the night before. He didn't seem to adjust his words to suit who he was with, because he acted the same here as he had when her mother had been absent.

Ume had worried herself sick over Sakura's request, saying that the wedding was too far away to possibly allow such behavior—until Sakura had made it explicitly clear that she was not planning on sharing a bed with Kakashi, only a room. Even then she had heard her mother's hissed warning to him before bed, and seen how tense he had instantly become. But the long conversation the night before had been something Sakura needed, worrying about how he might change when not under the watchful eye of her mother. He hadn't, he was the same person no matter the situation, it seemed.

They slept next to the fire again that evening, facing each other across the distance between their beds. In the firelight his hair looked almost as orange as her mother's which had Sakura almost giggling as she pointed out the change. His smile changed his entire face, his eyes crinkling closed for a moment before he opened his good eye to look at her.

"And your hair looks purple in the early morning. That will surely never fail to fascinate me, I think." At his words she smiled a little, feeling a blush flash over her cheeks. They lapsed for a moment into silence as Sakura didn't know how to respond and he seemed content enough as he was. It was enough to spur her into asking a question which had unnerved her for months, a question she hadn't wanted to bring up to her mother—although it was certainly more proper to ask her mother than Kakashi, so she brought it up in a round-about way.

"What will you do if I don't have a child within a year?" her voice was small but steady with the conviction of the question—Samurai were permitted to divorce their wives if more than a year went by with no prospect of having an heir, or to claim an illegitimate son or daughter as their true heir and force their wife to raise the child. He did not seem the type, but she still needed to know. She would be moving far from home, from her parents, and if he were to abandon her it would be a difficult journey homewards, and that was if the local lord did not deem the separation shameful for her—in which case she needn't worry about her journey home, because she would be ordered to kill herself. Kakashi frowned before answering, his face showing a little of his puzzlement while his voice stayed light.

"We barely know one another, a situation which will improve only slightly tomorrow. I won't see you again until your family makes the trip to Fujimi in the spring for our wedding, and we won't be able to talk until late in the evening on the day itself…I don't plan on our doing anything more than sleeping." It was hard to tell but it almost looked like a tiny blush crept up his cheeks, an answer to her own earlier one.

"I don't plan on anything more than sleeping side by side for a long time, Sakura, not until we know each other. People will start rumors that there is no baby because I don't want to touch you, or that you're barren, they will shake their heads at me for being foolish enough to be trapped in a spell and at you for luring a well-to-do samurai into marrying you. But they have no part in our lives, and we will have children when we are ready for them. I also don't make a habit of returning things in favor of something new," a ghost of a smile crossed his face before he continued—likely at the implication of her background as the daughter of a merchant, and of the troubles merchants encountered with people trying to return things they had already used.

"Besides, Asuma's uncle has promised to give me an Akita puppy as a wedding gift and we will have to spend a good amount of energy training it to be a good dog, we wouldn't have time to worry about a baby as well." The joking tone he used combined with his careful words had Sakura smiling as the last of her worries were lifted. She liked him, and his honesty. He seemed to know what was the honorable course of action, but he was also aware of how others would view the two of them. He had given voice to some of her exact concerns, and laid them to rest. She chose not to comment on her relief, only smiling as she started to speak.

"We had a dog when I was a little girl, his name was Ueno and he was an idiot. He chased carts and startled horses, one day a horse kicked him even. He walked in circles for a week afterwards, but it didn't stop him for long." Kakashi laughed softly, his eye leveled steadily at her as she spoke about her life in Iimori.

* * *

 

The morning of the fourth day was still and freezing as Kakashi and Tenzou readied themselves for the journey home. Sakura had made breakfast that morning, her technique gently criticized by her mother while Kakashi and Tenzou looked at Ume in disbelief—the young woman's cooking was far better than either of them typically managed, and Ume didn't think it was good enough? Kakashi vaguely knew that it was for his and Tenzou's benefit that Ume was trying to improve Sakura's abilities but he felt her abilities were more than adequate. Sakura was also giving tiny clues as to how she felt about her mother's words, a faint clenching of her fingers, brittle smiles, and few words.

The past few days spent in close proximity to her had given him wonderful insight to her—she was every bit as vivid as her hair. So, as Ume paused to take a breath in her worrying over if Tenzou had correctly packed everything in his bags, Kakashi took Sakura's arm and slipped away and out to the wrapped porch. Her smile was bemused as she followed him, closing shoji behind her as they walked. Once outside he waited for her to turn back to him after shutting the cold out of the house, stepping close to her and lifting a hand to her cheek.

Her skin was warm under his palm, his fingers, as he swept his thumb over the apple of her cheek. He was marrying a beautiful woman, but he wouldn't see her again for several months so this made sense, to give them both something to hold onto between now and then. So with a tiny huff of a laugh he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. After a moment, as she got over her initial shock, she hesitantly pushed back, returning it. As they kissed he took one of her hands and brought it up to rest above his heart before cradling her face with both of his own.

It didn't last long, he had meant it as an innocent thing and he intended to keep it as an innocent thing.

"I'm sorry for—" Sakura stopped him by poking him—painfully—where he'd left her hand on his chest.

"Stop it, I've wanted you to kiss me for two days. Silly samur—" her teasing voice was probably what did it. It also might have been the way her lips were a bit reddened, or the certain tilt to her face, but it was with a smile that he stopped her teasing with another kiss.

* * *

 

For the rest of the winter when the family got up Ume taught Sakura how to put her hair up as was proper for a married woman as well as having her do the balances for the family income. She also tried, but in vain, to get Sakura to act authoritative with any hired help Masaki brought to work on the house or the grounds. Her daughter didn't seem to understand that she would need to quickly establish her place in her marriage and her household, but Ume tried her best in the time she had available to her.

Sakura's cooking also steadily improved to the point that Ume didn't feel the need to apologize to Masaki for it—he had, since the previous summer, been enduring Sakura's cooking constantly. She had made meals here and there for years, usually simple things which were easy to do, in the past, but never had the family been subject to them for longer than a few days. The days of Kakashi's visit they had only eaten the simplest of things, meals which Ume did not feel completely ashamed of on her daughter's behalf. It had been nice to see that even if Sakura never improved beyond her skills she wasn't going to starve her household for lack of  anything edible being produced.

So as she packed things into the cart which Masaki had obtained, Ume tried to smile a little that she had prepared her daughter adequately for married life. She had taught the girl how to cook for three people—not only how to cook rice or how to cook fish, but how to manage household chores with preparing meals, how to cook by herself. She had also refreshed her daughter on what was expected of a good wife, taught her how to properly maintain the shrine for the family ancestors, as well as how to entertain guests of certain ranks. Ume hoped that Asuma's wife would help her with that last point, because Ume had entertained very few samurai in her home, and none as though they were from the same social rank.

The night before last she had even tried to enlighten her daughter about the physical aspect of marriage, red faced and stuttering her way through it. Ume strongly suspected that every woman's first night with her husband was different—her mother had spoken of it coolly, as though it were no different than sleeping beside someone, whereas she and Masaki had bumbled through theirs awkwardly, painfully, and comically—they each sheepishly laughed at themselves in retrospect, having gotten better at it as well as having learned to enjoy it in the ensuing years. So she hadn't told Sakura much, preferring to focus on how to make the experience nicer, as well as ways to tell if she were with child. By the end of her discussion, Ume's cheeks felt so hot she was sure water would boil on them. Sakura's looked much the same.

And now today she was helping her daughter pack the belongings she would be taking with her to Fujimi. Ume didn't realize she was crying until Masaki—passing by her after having deposited a heavy trunk in the wagon—wrapped one arm around her waist and wiped her tears with the other hand. If he could get through this then she could as well—he worried for his daughter so much, and this must have been hard on him to watch her go.

* * *

 

He looked very nice, dressed so seriously in black hakama and haori, and she kept sneaking glances toward him. The priest ticked a frown at her but kept going. This was too serious an affair to make a scene out of something so little. Sakura was glad, the horrors of the morning and the day before had been alleviated for the most part by the sight of Kakashi.

Her family had arrived a week ago, initially leaving her and her mother at the inn while her father travelled out to Kakashi's home to leave some of her things there. That same afternoon a sour looking Tenzou arrived with a note from Kakashi for her saying that if he found the time in the midst of everything he would come visit her. Sakura couldn't help but smile at each word, carefully reading and rereading the short letter—Ume had only caught her at it once and had recommended that she save it carefully if she wanted to keep it.

It was far more dear to her than anything which Ryo had ever written to her, and she couldn't even begin to understand why. Despite her best efforts, Kakashi's face had again been forgotten in the hustle and bustle of her daily life and she could only recall his eyes and the color of his hair—not even its style had survived in her memory, only the timbre and cadence of his voice. Ryo's hopeful face, however, was indelibly etched in her mind, particularly the day months before—in the fall—when he had realized that Sakura was engaged. He had come around the back of the house as she sat on the porch and struggled to put her hair up as her mother was teaching her—there were easier styles, but she wanted the style her mother had adopted to best contain as well as show off her strangely colored hair.

Something about the determined twist to her mouth and the generally ruffled look her hair had taken on (in protest probably), and it had finally clicked in the young man's head. There had been a long awkward moment as she tried to fix her hair as well as properly bow to the village head's son and as he tried to find the words to express himself. There were none and he had fled around to the front of the house, and Sakura had winced at his hurried apology to her father.

Sakura had thought it strange that she didn't feel more towards Ryo's befuddlement and later pain—she felt terrible that he was taking her engagement as badly as he was, but it wasn't as though he could have married her, and at least she was leaving the village rather than bringing him more pain daily. Most importantly she wasn't marrying Uchiwa Sasuke, Ryo's eternal and hated rival. Ume had stated that perhaps since she was stuck with Kakashi she was finding the good in the situation rather than the bad, and that she was proud of her daughter for such maturity.

But Sakura didn't think that that was it at all—she could have begged her father to marry her off to some other man and he probably would have done it, her pickings would have been quite slim but not non-existent. She rather thought that she and Kakashi had managed to build a little affection for one another during their short meetings and that it was because of this that his note meant more to her than a hundred Chinese love poems.

That, however, had been the beginning of her time in Fujimi. The rest of the week was spent preparing for the wedding as well as the few guests who were coming, and fending off those who attempted to be nasty or mean to her. It had mostly been fine until the morning before last when a woman had called Sakura a demon to her face, and the rest of that day and yesterday were simply awful as more and more of the Fujimi villagers stared blatantly at her as her family began to prepare.

She had never been more grateful for the privacy that her wedding would afford her, held in the seclusion of the shrine outside the village. She was surrounded by her family as well as those who stood in stead for Kakashi's, and they were all at least trying to make this day what it should be. So Sakura took a deep breath and forced herself to not keep glancing over at Kakashi because she was ruining her family's efforts at a perfect ceremony—but she couldn't help that until it was Kakashi's turn to speak she was perfectly, horribly, bored.

Kakashi's voice was beautiful and strong as he recited his commitment to her, to his marriage to her, and Sakura was glad for the white powder on her face because she was surely blushing. He wasn't just agreeing to being bound to her, he was stating that his family was willing to be bound to hers. It was like a romance story like her few friends in Iimori used to read, a man and his family looking past the faults in the woman's—and it was happening to Sakura.

The two miko aiding the priest stepped forward with the three cups, presenting the smallest one first to Kakashi and then to Sakura. As the bitter taste of sake flooded her mouth Sakura was glad that her father had had her taste some of his from time to time over the winter, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to keep her poise, she might have even spit it out. It was a different, stronger brew than her father drank, but luckily the second two sips were not as much of a shock as the first one. The taste of the sake was almost revolting, but it did warm her tongue and make the next two cups—and therefore the next six sips—far more bearable.

The sounds of the miko and attendants offering sake to their families could be heard, the rustling of clothing as sake was lifted to lips to mark the union of the two families as well as herself and Kakashi. For all that she was surrounded she felt incredibly alone for a moment, not being allowed to move away from her spot for another minute or more. Sakura continued to hold her ground until the sakaki twigs were nudged into her hands for her to make her offering to the gods.

And then Kakashi was taking her hand and turning her to follow the miko out of the sanctuary and out of the shrine. From there the small wedding party walked to the main Sarutobi estate home, the place being insisted upon by the village lord both because he was standing in as Kakashi's family as well as it being the closest residence to the shrine. Sakura leaned secretly on Kakashi's arm while her mother helped her with the trailing of her kimono—his warmth and her mother's closeness were comforting.

As they entered the Sarutobi home ahead of their guests she was separated from Kakashi in order to change, to put on the brilliant red uchikake which he had given her. When she returned she was seated next to him to pick at her food between speeches delivered and to try and contain her smiles at him, it was unseemly to smile too much on such a serious occasion. Sakura was glad for the next change in kimono because it allowed her to change into a pale green one with a trailing of herons and flowers on it, her favorite of her formal kimono and suited to the occasion as herons and the Hatake house were often tied together.

She was also glad to wear it because Kakashi couldn't keep his eyes off her for the rest of the celebration dinner.

* * *

 

She and Kakashi rode home with Asuma and Kurenai in the growing twilight rather than walking, following her parent's wagon for some of the journey until they pulled off at the inn and Asuma's horse kept pulling them forward through town. Kakashi held one of her hands in both of his, smiling a little whenever a jolt in the road had her squeezing his in surprise. They didn't speak much, and Sakura supposed that that was because it was a little awkward to deliver a newlywed couple to their wedding night—she would have to apologize to Kurenai the next time she saw her, for causing such a discomfort.

Once they rounded the bend and saw both Kakashi's farmland as well as the house Asuma lived in with his wife, Kakashi leaned forward to speak to his longtime friend.

"Asuma, take the road to your home, Sakura and I will walk across the field home. There isn't any sense in forcing your horse to make a long trip even longer than it already is." He was greeted with a hearty laugh but a nod in assent as response, Asuma's big hands pulling and directing the wagon towards the road which led to his own home rather than Kakashi's. She wondered briefly why Kakashi would ask such a favor, but didn't dwell on it. Instead she giggled to herself that his hair was orangy-blue in the last rays of the sunset, and her smile actually broke out when he shot her a questioning look.  Your hair she mouthed and was rewarded with a smile.

It was growing colder as the sun fled fast and faster, leaving them in semi-darkness by the time they came to a slow stop in front of Asuma's home. Kakashi helped her down and then helped Kurenai down, Asuma urging the horse forward to the small stable and leaving the three of them alone.

"Thank Asuma for me for helping my wife and I return home, Kurenai, it was far too long of a walk otherwise," Kakashi said with a smile and a small bow. Kurenai smiled and returned the gesture before saying her goodbyes and heading into her house. Asuma waved at them from the stable as they started to walk in the direction where a few lights shone at Kakashi's house. The night was quiet as they walked along the path towards those lights. Sakura put her arm around Kakashi's to have an excuse to walk closer to him in the growing cold, and she tried to control the butterflies in her stomach as she remembered the ease with which he had referred to her as his.

"I told Tenzou to make some dinner for us, in case we didn't actually get a chance to eat in between all of the politeness earlier," Kakashi said, breaking the comfortable silence which had settled on them. She rested her head briefly on his shoulder before straightening again.

"Thank you Kakashi, I've barely eaten all day." This drew a laugh out of him.

"I noticed earlier, every time you were about to take a bite someone stood up to give a speech and you would just set down your food, made of politeness and attentiveness—although I suppose I was in the same situation," he said in what he probably thought was a consoling voice, Sakura decided to tease him since he was just inches from doing it himself.

"But you got to try to eat whenever I went to change, I didn't have that chance!"

"I did not! They made me drink whenever you were out of sight! I was glad that you weren't going to change again, when you came back with the green kimono," and he trailed off a little at that. Sakura didn't say anything, she didn't know what to say—they had gone from playfully teasing each other to something else too quickly for her to keep up.

"You were beautiful in that, Sakura, I wish you could wear it again."

She smiled, a quick, soft little smile to lament that beautiful kimono. That kimono would be put away now that she was married, and she would wear more severe colors in darker tones. She had worn it so that Kakashi could see it, to see how it complemented everything about her. It was meant to get him to admire her, and it had apparently worked. Sakura fidgeted one of her fingers on his sleeve, searching for something to say.

"What was this secret that kept you here and away from town this week?"

"That you'll see soon enough, and until then I won't say a word about it," he said archly.

"Then I won't serve you any fish for your breakfast tomorrow, Kakashi," she replied in an excellent mimic of his tone. They managed their aloof expressions for a few paces before Sakura started giggling, turning her face into his sleeve to hide them, but Kakashi wasn't much behind her in letting out his own chuckles.

"You probably don't even live close enough to a stream to have fish in the morning," she managed to say once she felt a bit more composed—not that there was anyone watching her other than Kakashi, they were still far out in the field he was leading them across, despite being close enough to see distinct outlines around Kakashi's house.

"Oh we do, I usually make Tenzou go get one or two. I'm sure he'd be happy to get them for you as well—especially if you mention that he won't have to cook them."

"Tenzou what?" a voice called out from the garden, obscured by the high fence around it. Sakura laughed at his paranoia, noting to herself that it would be fun to play pranks on him to a certain extent—but not to the degree to which Kakashi seemed to. Her new husband, she suspected, had no qualms against early morning frog encounters with late-sleeping futon occupants and she prayed to the spirits that she would wake up before him most mornings to avoid any such encounters. It  was spring after-all, he would have no trouble finding one, and he would afterwards have no trouble effortlessly denying he had anything to do with it.

"You're going fishing tomorrow morning, that's 'Tenzou what,'" Kakashi called back, making no change in the pace of his walking. Instead he secured her arm closer to his in unabashed comfort at being so close to another person. Sakura appreciated the new warmth, because it was getting to be actually cold outside, but envied his ability to integrate her so easily into his personal space—she was still flushing red whenever his hip brushed against her clothing. As they rounded the fence and stepped into the courtyard she glanced at the space where she had agreed to become his wife, and the spot they had agreed to plant a tree in the coming fall. Everything important in her entire life was going to happen on this land, in this house it seemed.

Tenzou was on the porch waiting for them with a lantern, leading them into the house where he had a hearty rice porridge, okayu, being kept hot on the fire he had going. After being out in the night's chill it was a definite improvement to sit down, and have some actual food. Kakashi didn't immediately sit down, disappearing through a shoji, taking a lantern with him. She and Tenzou sat in awkward silence for those few minutes, not eating out of politeness and habit, and not talking because they were without anything to converse about. Servants didn't ask the new wife of the family head "And how was your wedding today, Sakura-san?" and Sakura had no idea what the new wife even said to servants period.

When Kakashi returned he had with him a length of cloth draped over his arm, cloth revealed to be a beautiful dark blue haori which he helped Sakura into before settling down himself. He was wearing his own coat in much the same way, and in the same color. She didn't have time to thank him before Tenzou was handing her a bowl of the okayu, so she settled for smiling at both of them as she waited for Kakashi to start eating. It felt almost natural here in front of the day-old fire, warm from the fire, the padded haori around her shoulders, and the hot food. By the end of their short meal she was feeling languid from the heat, as well as drowsy—it was barely an hour after the last sunlight fled the sky, leaving the valley in darkness, and she was already waning.

Somehow Kakashi noticed or knew, because he was soon helping her up and leading her farther into the house, guided by a lamp he took, held in the hand not supporting her. She heard his murmured orders to Tenzou to only start making breakfast if Kakashi told him to before the brown haired man shut the shoji door between them. Kakashi opened another shoji to what was obviously a bedroom by the look of the things inside it. Sakura fought off her drowse for a moment to think clearly about the last few hours.

"You promised me I would see what kept you, and you've not," she murmured as she shut the shoji behind her and moved to help him lay out the futon and the blankets. Secretly she was pleased at the fact that he had pillows rather than stiff headrests—the night before she had barely slept because of a particularly ill-fitting headrest the hairdresser had forced her to sleep on so as to not mess up her freshly coiffed and waxed hairdo. The entire night she had thanked the gods that her husband didn't have the income to support professionally prepared hairstyles, that this was likely to be the last time she ever had to endure the hot wax and pulling and poking and prodding of an unsympathetic hand.

"It will be far better to see it in daylight, Sakura, I promise. Now, sit down," and so she did and he knelt down behind her and a twinge of nervousness flashed through her for an instant. He  did remember their conversation over the winter, didn't he?

"Is there anything I can do to help you take this down," he said, touching the end of one of the kanzashi her own mother had worn to her wedding. Sakura ducked her head and carefully considered the question, knowing some of it would only be solved with the application of scalding hot water.  The pins, all of the pins, as long as he doesn't mind how bad the hair will look . She would have to wake up very early the next morning to ensure her hair was presentable when her parents visited her for the first time—there was another thrill of something akin to nervousness but also excitement, they would be visiting her not as Sakura their Daughter but as Sakura Kakashi's Wife.

"If you could help with the combs and the pins I can get the rest when I get up in the morning. It's going to look strange, though, some of it is waxed into place and some of it isn't."  Please don't change your mind about me now, she prayed.

Sakura's skin flinched and she almost jumped when he laid a hand on her shoulder and another on the side of her head but she tilted her head where he wanted it to be so he could see the combs properly. And then began the ginger process of taking out her hair ornaments as well as anything else that would easily come out. By the end Sakura's scalp was aching as long-pulled hairs were pulled new directions by gravity, but her head felt pounds lighter and her neck was suddenly able to move like she felt it should.

It was that same neck that Kakashi re-exposed by sweeping her hair away, leaning in to just almost trace his lips up her shoulder to her ear. He never quite touched her skin but something about his closeness electrified every hair on her neck and when he turned her head just a little bit towards his there was no thought in her mind about his statement months ago in the dead of winter, there was only the want and the warmth of his chest so near to her back, his hands on her shoulder and chin.

But apparently he wasn't quite so forgetful of himself because rather than pressing even closer to her he kissed her softly on her jaw before drawing her down to lay beside him under the blankets they had set out with the futon. His arms were wrapped around her as she fell asleep and Sakura could hear his heartbeat in her dreams that night. She was this man's wife, and he genuinely cared for what she wanted, what she needed. Somehow she knew that if she were less uncomfortable about their wedding night months ago, a very different activity would have followed his short, sweet kiss to her jawbone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So funfacts about Japanese weddings: you give money to the couple on the day of the wedding, but no gifts otherwise. You bring gifts to them either before or after the wedding.
> 
> Another funfact: you don't open gifts in front of the people who gave them to you, it's considered rude.
> 
> Another funfact: The reason Kakashi considered Obito and Shisui his brothers is because when male children in samurai lineages reached around 8 years of age, they were kind of apprenticed to other samurai to learn the tricks of the trade, and I'm having Kakashi's mentor be those boys' father. Basically he spent his youth living with them, which is why it was so painful for him to lose Obito.
> 
> Second to last funfact: After a woman's husband died she really was supposed to chop off her hair and join a monastery for the rest of her life, unless her in-laws wouldn't have anyone to take care of them and in that case she'd stay and care for them. Or if she had kids, then of course there's that whole motherhood thing.
> 
> Last funfact: if you have certain guesses about Shisui's gift then those guesses are probably right and yes, it was in the Edo period (which this story is set in) that erotic and pornographic manga (MANGA, for serious) and illustrations really gained popularity/were produced.

The birds chirped differently in Fujimi than they did in Iimori, and it was this difference that woke Sakura early, as it had woken her early for the last week while staying at the inn. For a few moments she lay quietly on her side, cuddled against Kakashi's side and enjoying his warmth as he slept. The light was almost nonexistent but just enough to make out the sparsely furnished room, and she couldn't see any lamplight coming from behind the shoji doors—Tenzou wasn't awake yet, which sent a brief thrill of thankfulness through her. Sakura sat up slowly, unwinding Kakashi's arm from around her waist and leaving him to sleep. She had a lot to do and it wasn't even dawn yet—the noise of the birds had been a welcome help.

Her yukata was modest enough to serve as adequate clothing she decided as she tiptoed through the house. At least while the two men were still asleep. Once they were awake she would need to change into something she could receive guests in—something a bit more fancy than a plain cotton yukata, since today would be the day that many gifts were hand-delivered to the house. It was a little more light in the main living area and Sakura moved with more confidence that she wouldn't kick something or knock something over.

Mentally ticking through her to-do list for the day, she made a quick plan to get everything done. First: breakfast.

It was unwise to unbank the fire and leave it unattended, so first she went out to the small water cistern at the back of the house to get her cooking water. Once she had things settled, Sakura debated on what to do next—she had promised, in a round-about-way, to cook fish for breakfast if Kakashi showed her his surprise for her, and he hadn't. Besides, getting fish would require Tenzou's help and she wasn't sure if she was ready to wake him up with possibly selfish demands. At least not on the first day.

So although with strange utensils and tools, she started unbanking the fire with practiced ease to begin breakfast. The routine was calming, and within moments she was lost in it—

"Sakura-san?" she managed to not knock anything over in her startle at Tenzou's voice. He was cautiously making his way into the room, already clothed for the day. Sakura straightened her own robe a little self-consciously. She patiently sat still until Tenzou had seated himself across the firepit from her, and stayed silent as he stared, mouth agape, at her—boggling at her appearance in all likelihood, and how unprepared she was for the day. She was dressed for sleep and she hadn't put her hair up properly—

Oh. Her hair.

"What happened to you…your hair…Um," Tenzou squinted in the darkness at the angular mess her hair had probably seen fit to arrange itself into. The wax had been tinted the lightest shade of pink to match her hair, but it was still wax and it had been quite liberally applied. Sakura hadn't been sure at the time if the woman doing her hair was a sadist or not, but given Tenzou's shocked expression she probably was.

"The style in it yesterday was done the old-fashioned way—I couldn't wear a wig to my wedding like most girls, it just wasn't going to work, we tried. I meant to get the wax out of it last night but I was just so exhausted I could only take it down. I'm going to try to get some of it out after my chores." The brown haired man's eyebrows shot towards his hairline at her words so Sakura looked down and away from him, choosing instead to poke at the slowly reviving fire. Tenzou reached across and took the tools from her, doing it himself.

"Light a lamp and go to the bathhouse and get your hair sorted," he murmured, refusing to look at her just as much as she was refusing to look at him. Sakura hesitated, disliking the possibility of Kakashi discovering her abandoning her chores to Tenzou, but also thinking of the possible guests (in addition to her parents) who would visit today. Kakashi would already be exposed to enough scandal for marrying a woman such as herself, he didn't need an unkempt wife starting rumors. So Sakura bowed her head in thanks and reached for one of the lamps lined up against the wall and lit it.

The short walk back to her and Kakashi's bedroom was a little more certain than it had been the night before. Leaving the lamp on the other side of the rice paper, Sakura used the dim light to find her things—a bathing cloth, a strong comb, and a plain cotton yukata. Kakashi had mumbled a little in his sleep but turned away from the light source initially, and Sakura tried to be as quiet as she could so as not to wake him up. Her mother had said sleep took away a man's fierceness, made him softer or look younger, but all Sakura could see was how relaxed Kakashi's face was in comparison to the slight tension on the left side of his face as he kept his eye shut during the day. Deciding a second comb, a finer one, would help as well she took more out of the boxes—when something shifted from her pile and thunked itself to the floor.

"Sakura?" turning towards his voice Sakura tried not to look as though she had been doing something wrong—she hadn't been and she  wasn't going to let him tease her like he teased Tenzou. But his face was still sleepy, his good eye blearily focusing on her face in the dimness, the other squinting shut out of habit. A slight smile tugged at her lips at the disheveled appearance he had, his own garment skewed along his shoulders and his hair exploding in every direction. Holding up her comb and lifting a chunk of waxed hair, Sakura allowed that smile to take over her face for a moment.

"If we hadn't taken it down, my father would have gotten his money's worth of that hair-do—but I couldn't have borne another hour with it up like that, so I have to clean it all today." That had Kakashi sitting up to clear his head of sleep a bit more, helped by dragging his hands through his hair slowly, tugging on every strand. Finally with a yawn he stood up and crossed the room towards where Sakura knelt at one of the boxes she had brought with her to his house. She didn't shy away from him when he reached out to inspect her hair, and she didn't say anything as he frowned at what he saw.

"I forbid you to ever have this done to your hair while you are married to me—did they mix the wax with resin…?" his tone turned from no-nonsense to befuddlement as he gently let the lock of hair fall back against her shoulder. He immediately turned to lifting things out of the box sitting between them. "Do you have a second comb like that one? A good strong one, because we're going to need it." Sakura blushed and nodded, it was all she could do—her brave words to be used as a defense were useless since he had presented no offense so far. He seemed to implicitly understand the need to get her hair into a presentable state and was offering his assistance.

Light was just beginning to truly show over the distant mountains as they picked their way to the small bath house. The pre-dawn dimness wasn't enough to truly see by and so they each carried a lamp with them so they would have enough light once inside. In addition to what Sakura carried, Kakashi carried a pot of hot water he had stolen from Tenzou's breakfast preparations—Sakura wasn't sure she approved, but it would save them time rather than waiting for the water in the bath to heat up.

* * *

 

She had looked less like a demon and more like a lunatic—shocking Tenzou into alertness when he finally identified that yes, this was Kakashi's wife and not a deranged stranger sitting and starting to make breakfast. It was like looking at a child's penmanship, only with hair. And then the girl had tried to insist on doing her chores before she fixed that  thing attached to her head—it would have been nice to hand off meal preparations to her on the very first day, but Tenzou wasn't exactly sure he could stand to look at the mangled hanks of Sakura's once lovely hair.

Because it had been lovely—freakishly weird, but lovely—before he had seen it this morning. Tenzou fervently hoped she never had her hair done that way again, or at least had the presence of mind to clean it properly rather than sleeping on it and making it worse. He briefly wondered if merchants bathed in the mornings and if that was why the girl hadn't cleaned it the night before like a normal person—or if it was some strange foreigner habit she had picked up from her mother. Hopefully Kakashi would set her to rights about the customs of samurai, their families, and their servants—and that he wouldn't make Tenzou do that  liberating education.

Once everything was set over the fire to cook, Tenzou rested back on his heels and allowed himself to sulk a little. Kakashi had, in a sense, liberated Sakura from where her birth had destined her. He was unable to do that, however, for one of his greatest friend and it grated at both of them. The fact that, with Sakura's addition to the household, Tenzou was now only obliged to perform the work he had been hired for was the best the samurai could do. The alternative was to live in his father's house as an unacknowledged son, with Orochimaru's apprentice treated with a higher level of respect than someone of blood relation.

He was lucky that his half-sister's father-in-law had arranged for him to be placed with the Hatake's in his teens. The two men were quiet, and the distance from the village ensured that they were largely undisturbed. On the surface it looked as though Orochimaru, a very great lord who lived close to Edo, was simply hiding a bastard deep in the countryside, but in reality it was to preserve Tenzou's sanity and allow him to survive without groveling to his apathetic father. Sakumo had secretly taken him on as an apprentice and taught him all he would need to know as a samurai. Every ritual, every word and movement, all the societal addresses—they had even briefly discussed what Tenzou might change his name to upon being recognized as samurai, and Sakumo had remained confident that somehow the truth would out and Tenzou would claim his rightful place in society.

Privately Tenzou confided in Kakashi that he didn't think such a thing were likely to ever pass—and that had been his opinion for the last ten years at least, and so far he had been correct.

* * *

 

This really should have been dealt with the night before, but Kakashi knew his own exhaustion well enough that he was sure they couldn't have done it. He had started the fire beneath the ofuro the minute they'd gotten to the bath house, leaving Sakura to settle with the things they'd brought with them. There was a little hesitant rustling behind him once his back was turned and he cursed himself for not having a proper screen in the room.

He waited patiently for her to finish changing, for her hand on his shoulder, before he turned to help.

Kakashi was glad he had offered his help when it got down to it. Sakura's hair was knotted and waxed almost beyond recognition, and it was only after watching her claw her way through the first bad section that he felt brave enough to do the same. She had beautiful hair, he loved the way it shown in every sort of light, and it was like rescuing Sakura and her hair to carve the chunks of wax out of it.

But several times he felt less like her rescuer and more like her torturer, because once in a while the comb he wielded against her hair caused her pain—sometimes she would merely flinch, other moments she would gasp, twice he accidentally caused her to cry out. It felt as intimate as a couple's wedding night was purported to be, with all of the awkwardness and one-sided pain as well. Kakashi was glad he was sharing this feeling with Sakura through cleaning her hair rather than anything else.

They had quickly used up the hot water he'd stolen from Tenzou and had struggled through the rest of her hair with the luke-warm-turning-to-hot water in the bath. But eventually the deed was done, and her hair was cleaned of even the last waxy clumps. The sun was almost risen by the time he ran the third fine-toothed comb smoothly through Sakura's hair. She leaned into him from where she knelt a bit to the side. Putting aside the comb Kakashi wrapped an arm around her and propped his chin on her shoulder, pulling her closer as he did.

"Thank you," her voice was soft to his ears, barely raising above a whisper.

"You are quite welcome, Sakura," he murmured, "Now, I will leave you to finish up and go see if today is the day that Tenzou has decided to poison me." Ignoring her startled exclamation, Kakashi squeezed her shoulders before standing to leave the small, warm room.

The relative cold between that building and the regular house had been enough to give him satisfaction in his wisdom—his skin had been much too flushed for continuing to stay with Sakura, who he had given his word to respect and honor in his every day with her. The warmth of the house was a different sort of warmth, one which he was far more familiar with these days—and that warmth meant it was time to tease Tenzou about his familiarity with women's work.

"So, I see Sakura charmed you into making breakfast this morning—to become a pattern my friend?" Tenzou gave him the barest of glances at first before doing a slow double-take as his hand—laden with chopped onion—veered from its course toward the stewpot to where he had already poured some tea for them, and into Kakashi's cup plip-plunk-plopped three varying sizes of onion. With a deliberate hand he dropped the rest of the onion into the stew where it belonged before he took up the small cup in both hands to give it to Kakashi, all the while his eyes remaining neutral but somehow expectant. Kakashi felt the muscles around his mouth twitching—he didn't know whether to scowl or to break out giggling at the severity with which Tenzou was taking his retribution. On one hand it was an awful thing to do to someone's tea, but on the other hand it was adorable—something akin to what he used to do in his youth with Asuma and Asuma's cousin, the Sarutobi heir. He kept his eye locked to Tenzou's looking for the slightest sense of remorse about ruining perfectly good tea.

He opted at last to just take the tea and drink it to take Tenzou's bluff, a plan for revenge already forming in his mind, but the instant he tipped the cup and the awful tasting onion tea hit his tongue two small hands grabbed his shoulders and a girlish shout sounded sharply in his ear—

What happened next was a combination of his startle at the sneak attack Sakura had conducted on him mixed with half-drowned, highly disgusted sputtering as the onion tea went everywhere—down his throat, getting into places never meant to breathe tea, dripping down his face, spewed out over the fire to end in noxious onion-and-tea-scented hisses of steam, and incredulous laughter at what had just been done to him in the course of five whole minutes.

He was still coughing as Sakura produced a small cloth from nowhere and dabbed at his face, and it was at this that he started laughing in earnest through the last remaining hacks.

"Are you going to be okay, Kakashi?"

"I think so, but I'm never going to let either of you out of my sight ever again."

"It's your own fault for drinking onion tea—how could I have known that that's what your staring contest was about?" Sakura retorted as she settled in and lent a hand to Tenzou.

* * *

 

After their breakfast Sakura excused herself back to the room she now shared with Kakashi. Her mother had given her the advice to make a list of goals for every day, to ensure that everything got done—one of the gifts Ume had given her were several blank scrolls and a beautiful ink set. Sakura intended to start the habit today. She had to properly unpack, find her way around the little cooking area—which might involve questioning, interrogating, cajoling, or begging Tenzou for help—as well as see to the house itself and what would need cleaning or repair and when. And in between she would have to plan a meal for the evening as well as any food or drink visitors might arrive and expect.

Because today was the first of several that acquaintances of their families—but probably mostly Kakashi's friends, acquaintances, and superiors—would be visiting the house bearing gifts to honor their wedding. Most of her father's friends in Iimori had delivered their gifts before she had left—and her father had brought most of them to the house a week ago. But that still left those living closer to Fujimi than Iimori, which meant that today could potentially be taken up with a whole lot of nothing.

Just as she was finishing her list she heard the distant sound of a wagon clattering it's way down the path to the house, and Kakashi's muted voice calling for her. Setting down her tools, Sakura checked her hair once to ensure that it was sitting properly on her head before going to Kakashi.

"Do you know who it is?" she asked, following him outside to the porch and slipping on her sandals to step out into the yard. Kakashi shook his head, a rueful little smile on his face as he stepped quickly to the gate.

"No, but I have a good idea because of the early hour. I just hope that we'll be able to entertain them properly," he called back. He raised a hand to his eye, shading it from the early morning sun to try and discern who it was. A frown ticked at his face, momentary and then smoothed away but Sakura saw it. Kakashi wasn't the sort of man who frowned much, it seemed, preferring to cover up his dissatisfaction as quickly as he had felt it. She hoped that if he found these guests unacceptable that she would as well—that way she wouldn't have to mourn an acquaintance she couldn't pursue.

As the sound of the cart grew louder a cry hailed them and Tenzou's voice soon followed with some sort of greeting. Kakashi on the other hand was accidentally letting a frown show through. Sakura decided to get a look at what he was staring so intently at and came up at his side—she used the pretext of laying her hands to rest at his arm, nestling in the crook of his elbow. He twitched a little, at her touch and regained his composure. The cart was slowing as it came down the little road, and Tenzou was walking out towards it to lead the ponies to the house.

"Kakashi, what is it?" He spared her a glance before turning his eye back towards their visitors.

"It is, I believe, Uchiwa Shisui and his fiancée Uchiwa Rin," he murmured.

"Uchiwa?" Relatives of a family both she and Kakashi were acquainted with, albeit different branches. He had mentioned, in the winter, a man named Uchiwa Obito. Perhaps these were that man's direct relatives? He had spoken of Obito with admiration and respect, the love of a brother—why was he so cold about these people? Kakashi must have known her thoughts, because he covered her hands with his own briefly in a soothing gesture.

"I will tell you later, for now please prepare some tea for them. It probably took them several hours to get here."

* * *

 

He had sworn never to entertain Rin, but he could not deny Obito's youngest brother entrance to his home. That Shisui had brought Rin was of little consequence after that—Obito and Shisui had been his brothers for years as he apprenticed under their father. For many years he had even planned to have one of them mentor his son if he ever had one—but these days he was unsure.

It was of no fault of the brothers, but more the fault of Rin herself. She had been behaving, since Obito's death, in the most disrespectful of ways. Her grief, at first, had seemed to be deeper than anyone's but as the months passed she had defied more and more traditions and gone in the face of everything her former husband had loved. Eventually her actions had gotten her betrothed to Shisui so that the Uchiwa elders would have a  living way to reign her in rather than relying on respect for the dead.

It was really a cage of her own making, and Kakashi felt no pain on her account at her forced smiles at her soon-to-be-husband. But it still hurt that she had made it, she had been his greatest friend after Obito and Shisui. He had thought her to be the best wife a man could ask for, but her actions since Obito's death made him glad he was not married to her—his grave would go uncleaned, and no offerings would be made on his behalf. He would be forgotten, and never at peace.

She probably had her reasons, but there was a time for personal reasons and there was a time for what was expected of oneself. And she was unforgivable. He hated the idea of introducing her to Sakura, he hated the prospect of telling Sakura the full story of the aftermath of Obito's death. But he had to, to ensure that Sakura knew he wouldn't tolerate a friendship between them.

"Shisui, I heard that you had gone to Edo to collect your cousin Sasuke from his master there? I am glad for your visit, but must say I'm surprised by it. Do come join us for tea, Sakura is just making some now."

"Kakashi, I told I couldn't make it to your proper wedding—not skip giving you a gift for it! I am leaving this very day but if I didn't give it to you today, you wouldn't get it when you'd remember not being married! But I'll only give it to you on the condition that you give Rin and I something after our own this summer. Speaking of the lovely Rin, I brought her with me today to spend some time with her before I leave for the city—and so she could meet your lovely new wife." Kakashi allowed his own brittle smile to creep onto his face as Shisui swung himself back up into the cart and started fishing around in search of whatever it was. Rin stood still, where she had when introduced, looking embarrassed and awkward.

Shisui let out an excited cry and hopped down from the cart, a bundle under his arm. He clapped the other arm around Kakashi's shoulders and they frog marched each other to the house with Rin following them quietly. Sakura was just finishing arranging the room for four—and Kakashi was unexpectedly relieved that she had picked up on that when guests were present Tenzou was not included, otherwise it would be publically known that he allowed his servant liberties only allowed to the high ranks. It was well-known privately that he did so, but entertaining guests was a different matter entirely.

Tension he hadn't known he had bled out of him as Sakura prepared and served the tea—Tenzou's words that she would be inadequate had seeped their way into his mind somehow it seemed. Kakashi's brittle smiles gradually became more and more real, until finally he was able to actually laugh at one of Shisui's jokes. Eventually, probably less than an hour later, the mood had mellowed enough for proper gift giving and receiving.

"So, my fine white haired friend, this is a gift from my father and I—our whole family, actually—and I do hope you'll like it, you used to like things like this. " There was a crafty wink in the younger man's eyes but Kakashi bowed and reached for the bundle nonetheless. It was paper, it seemed, and quite a lot of it. A distant thought of his favorite novel flashed through his head—his copy had been destroyed in a rather unfortunately vivacious celebration of Asuma's then-upcoming marriage. Kakashi put the thought away and thanked his friend—of all their gifts, he was going to unwrap that one first when the time came.

"Shisui, if we stay here another hour it will be too late for you to leave for Edo today," Rin's voice interrupted a spirited recollection between them of the time they (Obito, Shisui and Kakashi) had tied Asuma and his cousin Iruka to a tree overnight. Shisui paused, a tightening around his eyes showing his dislike of her attitude while Kakashi did his best to restrain a frown. The awkward silence was broken by Sakura who was just sitting back after refilling their tea.

"I was never as eager as that to see  Kakashi go, which probably says poor things about my moral character. I had the distressing experience of forgetting his face every time we were apart." Shisui's face split into a grin, one which Kakashi couldn't help but mirror a bit—Sakura's voice had been sweet, and she had directed everything wrong with Rin's statement towards herself. Because it was terribly embarrassing to be ordered around in such a manner in front of acquaintances or friends—yes, only the four of them would have known, but that didn't change that it had happened.

Sakura had saved Shisui from the social stigma of listening to a woman like Rin without complaint—she had shamed her own character rather than shaming either Shisui's or Rin's, while still ensuring that Rin's mistake was corrected. A nail that sticks up will be hammered down, after all.

"Well, on that note I must return my dear fiancée home and then make for Edo—so she can be of similar moral character of Hatake Kakashi's wife. I always knew that you would marry a woman who was good for you, Kakashi. Enjoy my gift, both of you." And with a smile and a mischievous flash to his eye, Shisui started in on making his goodbyes to the household. Kakashi at that point was nearly sure of the content of Shisui's gift, and wasn't sure if he should tackle the Uchiwa to the ground in offense or gratitude.

Tenzou helped Shisui turn the cart around while the three of them stood on in silence. Once that was done, the Uchiwa man helped Rin up into it before following himself. With a slightly dampened cheerful wave he flicked the ponies into motion and the cart rocked forward and away.

* * *

 

"Kakashi? What have they done to make you so upset?" Sakura's voice was soft so that their departing guests would not hear her. Kakashi closed his good eye and turned his face down for a moment.

"You noticed then."

"Yes, yes I did. I won't ask to maintain an acquaintance you're in disfavor of, but I would like to know why." He opened his eyes at her words, lifted his head to look at her, and reached for her hand to lead her back into the house.

"Come, you must have much you'd like to get started with—I will tell you as you work." His thumb swept once along the back of her hand as he spoke.

They settled in the cooking area, so that Sakura could properly explore it. And also so she wouldn't have too much of an opportunity to stare at him as he told her of his history with their morning's guests. It was obviously a painful thing he was going to try to tell her. She hoped that his life from now on would bring him less pain than it had before she met him.

"After Obito passed away…no…the story goes farther back." He paused for a long while as he collected his thoughts and Sakura chose to remain quiet. "When I was eighteen or nineteen, a few years older than you, I was casually courting Rin—she was a lovely woman who seemed to have a certain amount of affection towards me. I was almost ready to speak to my father so he could speak to her family, but I realized that Obito—my master's son, my best friend from youth—was hopelessly in love with her."

Sakura met his gaze once with a slow nod before pulling a box in front of herself and slowly taking out the contents.

"And so you broke contact with her?"

"No," Kakashi said with a small shake of his head, "I stopped courting her however, and urged Obito's father to speak on his behalf—that man treated me like another son, and didn't have me whipped for my actions.

"They were married within months, and Obito was blissfully happy. Rin seemed pleased as well—given how little I could provide her with, she would not have been so pleased to marry me. When he died, however, Rin began to act indifferently towards her duties to him. She arrived here one night, I remember because I had to leave my father's side to answer the door, and begged me to speak to Obito's father about a marriage between us. I refused."

Sakura knew well enough what a woman was supposed to do after her husband died—she was supposed to wait a little while to see if she was pregnant with his child, and if she was not then she had to either care for her in-laws or join a monastery. Rarely did she remarry.

"She will not do anything which is expected of her, and I have been refusing to associate with her for the last year—the Uchiwa didn't know what to do with her though. Her parents have passed away, her brother was called to live in Edo, and she was married for nearly ten years—they couldn't send her back to her family, but she was dishonoring Lord Uchiwa's dead heir by her actions. So they had her engaged to Shisui recently, to provide some control over her. They will go to live in Edo after their marriage, so that Rin's indiscretions will look smaller in the midst of so many people."

The box was empty and everything was laid out in order, and Sakura had her hands folded in her lap as she looked at her finds and listened to Kakashi.

"Do you feel she was acting maliciously then?" her voice was soft, so as not to let him jump to conclusions that she was overly sympathetic towards the older woman.

"I feel she has acted dishonorably and selfishly since Obito's death—if she merely chose to care for her mother and father in law, I would see no fault in her actions. However she indicated to the family that they had servants for a reason, again and again. She won't do her duty to a man who loved her unconditionally for half his life." She nodded at his answer, knowing that anything more wouldn't be helpful to either of them.

So, she reached forward and squeezed one of his hands before turning back to reorganizing the box to how she wanted it to be.

After Shisui's visit, there wasn't exactly a stream of visitors to the house, Kakashi's land was fairly far off the beaten path of many locals—but this meant that only those who felt obligated by kinship or genuine friendship came bearing gifts. Among those visitors was the lord of Fujimi, Sarutobi Hiruzen, who arrived at their door alone, his servants banished to waiting at the road with Tenzou. In his arms was a little brown dog, squirming and wriggling to escape him, but Sarutobi-sama was having none of that and although he appeared old and frail he was still strong enough to hold on to a half-grown puppy.

Sakura envied his ability to maintain his composure in the face of so wriggly an animal through his greeting.

"Kakashi, I see you're still as fresh-faced as a boy—even my son is growing a proper beard these days, but here you are looking as though you were twelve again," he sighed before forcibly passing the little dog to Kakashi and turning to Sakura.

"And you must be Sakura, I haven't heard much about you that wasn't pure rumor—although if Shisui is to be believed you make excellent tea and conversation? I met him on the road coming here, where he fobbed his own tales on me, as though I were his nattering elderly uncle rather than his father's sworn lord. But I digress—just how are your skills with tea, Hatake Sakura?" The hopeful tilt to his question had Sakura blushing at the strange compliment assigned to her by someone she had only met hours ago, passed on to someone she had only just laid eyes on. Kakashi tried to say something, but Sarutobi had already whisked into the house and Sakura rushed after him to keep him out of trouble—for she was suddenly quite sure that Sarutobi-sama was a mischief maker, one that Kakashi's pranks wouldn't hold a candle against. He had found her tea setting quickly enough and settled himself serenely there by the time she and Kakashi caught up with him. The little puppy was gently set on the floor by Kakashi where it darted in and around the three of them.

With a glance at Kakashi to see his nod, Sakura started preparing the tea—what else could they do, really? Sakura focused on her work as Kakashi spoke with their guest. The puppy settled down next to her, leaning up against her leg. As she served each cup she took the time to inspect the little dog. It was of an unusual coloring for an Akita, and it appeared to be smaller than most she had seen at this age. So they had gotten the discolored runt of the litter, but Sakura didn't mind. The little dog was adorable.

"Kakashi, I have to offer you congratulations on your marriage—it seemed more and more unlikely as the years passed, I am glad for you," Sarutobi said in what was probably his sagest voice as Sakura passed him his tea.

"I can only thank you that you granted me permission to do so," Kakashi murmured.

"Granted? I've been trying to find you a wife for ages ever since my son married that lord's daughter and my nephew married the Yuuhi girl—Lord Uchiwa is not the only man who considered you as another son, Kakashi! And you were so forlorn when Obito married Rin ten years ago, one might have even thought you were in love with the girl. But Sakura is a fine choice for a wife—especially for you, you'll both get stares in town rather than just one of you."

"Sakura is certainly of a unique appearance, one which I find quite lovely," Kakashi replied, but Sakura noticed his sudden alertness, his facial muscles tightening as though he were angry and not showing it. He couldn't defend her, she realized, if Sarutobi decided he disliked her.

The puppy whimpered at her side for a moment before calming.

"So what are you going to name that little dog—I was very lucky to have a litter born in time for your wedding, as a perfect gift to a new couple. If you train him right, he will guard you and your family faithfully for all his life." Without even a gesture or a mention of her name, Sakura knew exactly what he was talking about. Sarutobi was hinting at the legacy of Kakashi's family being passed on. She hoped her cheeks weren't as on fire as she feared they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: If one could, it was advisable to build another room onto one's house when one got married...that way if it was a sleeping-in-separate-beds marriage, it wasn't totally awkward. Japan rocked the proto-Victorian and Victorian before the Victorians were even Victorians.
> 
> Funfact: Wooden training swords of some/many/lots of kinds were/are called bokken, and were blunted swords used for training. Rather than, you know, using actual swords which are all sharp and cutty.
> 
> Funfact: The stipend given to samurai was called a koku which was also the measure of volume/worth for rice. 
> 
> Funfact: Although if you were samurai in this period (if 1600 to 1700 is interpreted as the "golden age" of the Tokugawa system), you were on good footing in society, there were still little sub-levels within the class. Stipends, given in koku, also varied on how much land one had, one's connections to who, as well as family lineage, historical alliances of one's family, and distance from Edo. And then there were the promotions/family connections which might provide more wealth, better places in the hierarchy. That's how come the Hatake can barely make ends meet whereas the Uchiwa are lords.

Sarutobi eventually went on his way, getting into his litter and creaking his way back towards the village. The little puppy, while affectionate towards the two of them had started after him but was scooped up by Kakashi. He passed the little dog to Sakura and led the way back into the house, chatting amiably about nothing in particular. He helped her clean up the tea they'd shared with Sarutobi, and to reassemble the kitchen after she'd taken it apart. It was as she glanced around, wondering if she should get water from the well, that he spoke up finally.

"Tenzou mentioned earlier today that he needed to weed the garden, which is code that  I need to weed the garden—care to help?"

Outside, the sun's light was waning from the brightness of the day towards the yellowy light of late afternoon, and several more people had already visited them bearing gifts, when the steady trundle of a wagon made itself known. Sakura and Kakashi had changed out of their better things and into clothing appropriate for weeding the garden. They'd been working side by side, each getting used to the other's presence, how the other worked. The little akita—dubbed Pakkun by Kakashi and adored by Sakura—that Sarutobi-sama had given them wound circles around them, sniffing and whuffing at each weed as they dug them up—occasionally pouncing on any particularly offending plants.

Kakashi heard the wagon first, but it was Sakura who jumped up to go change—these visitors had to be her parents, they  had to be. It was getting too late in the day to even receive more visitors, and they had promised they would come today, so it  had to be them. Girlish excitement curled in her toes as she flew through the house. If she was careful, then her hair wouldn't get messy and she could go out sooner.

Kakashi followed her shortly and shooed her behind a screen so they could change on their own in relative peace. Once she emerged, still tying her obi behind her back, she caught a smirk on Kakashi's face. He crossed the room and smoothed the fabric down over her shoulders and once she had her hands free of her own knots she did the same for his clothing. His lips still betrayed whatever had amused him, though and she frowned a little with a tilt of her head.

"Serves us right for trying to do actual work today."

She giggled in agreement before making her way out of the room.

Seeing her parents turned out to be very strange, which soured the excitement she had felt on hearing their approach. Kakashi blandly ignored everyone else's discomfort, choosing to make the same sort of small talk as he had made with every other guest of the day. Letting them into the house was surreal, because it was to be  her house that she would grow old in, that she would maintain and share with Kakashi and their family. And at that moment, it was as though this fact was being loudly reasserted between herself and her parents. Sakura was tipped off because of a weird distance between herself and her father, and her mother seemed to be resisting fussing at her every move. Both were trying to cope, but her mother's agitation only served to make Sakura nervous. Was she doing something wrong or was her mother just trying to give her space? She forced herself to act with some authority with the tea preparations. Just because her mother, who had taught this to her, was watching her didn't mean it was a test of her abilities. Besides, she had had a full day of practice with the few important visitors Kakashi had invited inside.

Suitably encouraged, Sakura tried to see past what this visit was really supposed to solidify. She instead concentrated on the little things about their visit rather than the larger whole, like the specks of silver hair beginning to thread their way through her father's hair, or the way her mother blew just a little on her tea before taking a sip, or the way the steam curled out of their cups from the heat of the tea, or the way that Pakkun—who was napping soundly at her side—sighed in his sleep. Sakura did anything to distract herself from the tiny knot in her stomach which whispered that her relationship with her parents and her entire life up until now were slipping away from her faster and farther than she could ever chase them. It was beginning to really sink in that this was not a visit where she returned to Iimori with her family and accidentally forgot Kakashi's face.

This was a visit where  they returned to Iimori and accidentally forgot  her face. It was an odd feeling, not quite real and very much like a dream.

Just before her parents left, all of them went out to the wagon to help unload the last few gifts her family had to give her, putting them in the main living area into a neat stack. Something, which earlier had just been a strange ache, started to cramp in Sakura's middle. Once everything was in order, her father resolutely walked back outside and urged the pony to turn about on the road so he and her mother could return to the village—they would leave for Iimori early the next morning, Ume said softly, a sweet, sad, and happy smile on her lips. They would try to visit sometime in the summer, depending on how the spring went. Her words had just barely penetrated Sakura's brain as her father helped Ume up into the cart before following her swiftly—it was eerily similar to Shisui and Rin's departure, which solidified the cramp inside her stomach, a cramp which was becoming almost painful.

The steady clop of the pony's hooves was sharp above the creaking of the wagon. Ume sat close to Masaki, but neither of them turned around to wave goodbye.

As she and Kakashi watched them go, he put his arm around her waist. It really hit Sakura, then, that her parents were an entire day away—that she had enough responsibility here with Kakashi that visiting them often was really not an option. The tears were just heat in her eyes, at first, but grew quickly enough to nearly spill down her cheeks. Sakura bit her lower lip, hoping that the slight pain would keep them from falling, would keep her from sobbing. Her breathing shallowed with the effort, and she bent her head forward to keep Kakashi from noticing her almost-tears.

But he felt her distress as though she actually  had sobbed, pulling her closer and tucking her head under his chin. Another arm wrapped around her back with a soothing stroke as he pressed his cheek against the top of her head, and with that Sakura started crying softly into his yukata. She pressed her face closer to him as he readjusted his arms around her turning a makeshift embrace into something more secure, all while she rained tears onto him. Distantly Sakura heard a heartbroken whine from the puppy who tried to comfort her by nuzzling at her foot, and much closer to her ear she heard Kakashi murmuring to her.

"It will be alright, Sakura, it will be alright. Shh…"

Her tears stopped eventually, leaving her in hiccups with her cheek pressed against his damp clothing. His arms were still wrapped around her, a thumb was sweeping back and forth at the back of her neck. Slowly he let her go and took her hand.

"I have something I'd like to show you before I make Tenzou go fishing, will you come with me?" She nodded once before following him. Just as they reached the house he paused and whistled once for Pakkun who perked up at the sound and started bouncing his way towards them. Sakura suspected that it was more for the excitement of a new noise than actual training as the puppy followed them inside, all the while trying to trip them by being underfoot.

* * *

 

Kakashi had never built onto the house before the previous summer, the last major event which happened to the old Hatake home was when his father had added on a large room for himself and his wife, while Kakashi's grandmother had been moved out of a colder outer-room and into the main living area which Sakumo had arranged to better suit her. That way Kakashi's parents had their own room, and the elderly Hatake matron would be warm enough on cool nights. The room she vacated had become a personal room to herself and Kakashi's mother.

His mother had only had time to arrange and decorate it before her death, when he was still a baby—a toddler at most. It was sad, his aging grandmother used to tell him as a boy before she too passed away when he was seven. It had been a terribly swift fever, according to Sakumo who had spoken of Shiori only after Kakashi demanded it in his teens. But neither his grandmother nor his father ever really told Kakashi who his mother was. It was the paintings and her trinkets that defined how he knew her, and in his adult life he'd gained an appreciation for the fact that his parents had managed to get away with being a love-match. Each of their families had been willing to indulge them that much. He'd spent his teen years and his early twenties looking for something like that, falling in love with a woman and  then marrying her. Not the other way around. But just because he had married out of utmost necessity didn't mean that he'd given up on the idea of falling in love. He hoped to love Sakura one day, to feel more than just respect towards her. And within that hope was a tiny wish that she could love him as well someday.

However, until then he was determined to give Sakura what his father had given his mother—which had required ingenuity and Tenzou, which had proved to be much against the brown haired man's will, as well as the added benefit of learning the pure storm of curses his servant could summon after construction-related injuries. Kakashi had added an entire new room to the house, and as gifts had arrived he had actually stuffed most of them in it. That way they would be nicely gathered when he and Sakura went through them, and out of the way until then. Tenzou had merely accused him of acting like a squirrel. Kakashi had meant to show the room to her the night before, but they had both been so tired—and he'd been terribly selfish in wanting to spend his first night as a married man next to his wife.

Because if Sakura felt uncomfortable continuing to sleep beside him, there was the option of sleeping in the room he'd built for her. The house was warm despite the spring air outside turning brisk in the late afternoon, almost evening, and Sakura's hand in his was warm—almost a little too warm, but that was perhaps because of her crying. Learning to deal with a woman around and in the house was certainly going to be an adjustment.

"I hope you haven't found this place already exploring the house," he said, unknowing of the smile which crinkled at his eyes but well aware that Sakura was at ease walking with him through the house. Her eyes were red and puffy, reminding him of the dampness over his heart as well as his surprise room. Hopefully it would make her happy and not cause her discomfort.

"Kakashi, I have been making tea all day and smiling sweetly at people I don't know. I've hardly had time to look at what you and Tenzou seem to think is a proper cooking area, and the only other places I've visited between last night and this instant have been the bath house and the well. Whatever it is, I'm sure I will be happy with it." Despite her nose being swelled up and adding an accent to her words, she managed to seem serious through her sarcasm. The first thing that had enchanted him with her almost a year ago was a violent streak to her words at times, and if she was putting teasing barbs into her replies then she must have started to feel better.

The paper on the shoji was still pristine, which wasn't surprising seeing as he and Tenzou had only truly finished the room days ago. A failure for an order to show up was the cause of it, and ultimately why Kakashi was unable to visit Sakura all during the previous week. Not that  that really mattered  now , but he had wanted to see her. To see if he was really dreaming that her eyes were the color of grass. He gently let go of her hand so he could show her the room.

The smooth sound of the door sliding open was almost inaudible compared to Sakura's sudden intake of breath, but even that was quickly drowned out by their new puppy planting his tiny feet on the ground and barking puppy barks at the new territory he had just encountered.

"Pakkun!" he scolded, right as Sakura took a few steps forward through the doorway of the room. Pakkun flattened his little ears up at Kakashi, and then giving the silver haired samurai a hurrumphing whine as he marched forward after Sakura. Kakashi grinned for half a second before Sakura turned towards him, framing herself in the room with all of their wrapped gifts amassed behind her. The scene was flattened, like a painting, for Kakashi as he took her in with his good eye.

"What is this, Kakashi?" she stood still as he crossed his arms low at his waist, hovering for half a second where he was and then stepping into the room as well, standing close to her. Looking at her eyes, still red from mourning her parents' departure, Kakashi answered her honestly. He couldn't be selfish and ask her for company she didn't want to give, innocently or otherwise—in a very,  very technical sense he could, but he knew that he would never be able to. It would bring shame on his family, on his mother and father most directly, and they would suffer for having scum for a son. Kakashi was determined not to do that.

"This is your own room, you can do with it what you wish. For the moment, all of our gifts from before the wedding are stored here, but otherwise it's yours," he said, adding a little smile before plunging into the part he absolutely had to tell her.

"You can sleep here, if you wish, rather than in my room. And at any other time, as well, you don't even have to bring your bedding to this room—there's already a whole set in here if you need it." He glanced away from her then, checking one last time that everything was fully finished and that he hadn't hidden the futon beneath anything, that everything was in a semblance of order. Sakura stared at him, blinking occasionally with slow precision until he looked her full in the face once more, curious at her silence.

"Stop being silly, if I sleep where I do my embroidery I'll never sleep again. My mother calls—called—me One More Stitch sometimes. I don't think I'm going to set up shop in," a tiny hiccup of a pause followed, "our room, so I'm going to need to use this one." And then his pink haired wife proceeded to stare him down until he nodded in agreement with her, dropping his arms from around his middle. It was going to take some time to get used to Sakura, let alone everything else she was about to bring into their lives.

"Well, then we'll spend this evening after dinner opening all of this—and tomorrow, while Tenzou and I are out in the fields, you can set about organizing this room and getting familiar with the house. Unless you'd like to learn the finer points of rice planting? I don't mean to scare you away, but Tenzou can get quite quarrelsome during planting. You still have to get your things unpacked and in order, but we'll be doing it for a while yet."

"So I might still get to learn this season and be useful, you're saying," she said, and as she smiled he saw that her eyes were returning to normal—her grass green irises no longer rimmed with pink and red.

"Naturally, you're Hatake now and should be at home in the fields," he teased before Pakkun pounced on his foot, a surprise attack done in utter loyalty, it seemed, to Sakura. A short laugh escaped him as he bent to pick up the little puppy to scold it up close and personal. Something to the effect of "you are my dog too, you know. It's Tenzou you should be after, especially if he won't go fishing for us. What do you say we find him and see?" The dog looked up at him, now made of docility, seemingly entirely nonplussed. Flashing a nod at Sakura, he was halfway down the hall when she called after him.

"Thank you, Kakashi."

Out in the main area of the house, he met Tenzou just as the man was coming inside. He hid the predatory grin which threatened to take over his face. They were going to have fish for dinner tonight, and that was a solid fact. Never mind that each of them hated fishing, most days, it was Tenzou's turn tonight—they'd had fish a few nights ago, which Kakashi had caught.

"Tenzou, do you know what we're having for dinner tonight?"

Whatever weariness had been in Tenzou's form before Kakashi spoke, all of it turned to alertness within moments.

"Fish. And you're catching it."

* * *

 

That night Kakashi and Sakura managed to sift through the gifts that had been given to them. Sakura was amazed at the number of them, as well as who they were from. The only samurai she'd ever been close to was Ryo, and none of her friends had married samurai of Kakashi's rank. And the stories he'd told of these people, to explain to her who they were and how he knew them, told Sakura a great deal more about  Kakashi than it did about her new neighbors and future acquaintances. He was a tricky man, kind and giving while at the same time resolute.

The Uchiwa clan head's gift was as strange as it was lovely. A statue of a peaceful looking woman cradling a fat little baby to herself, carved in a rich red-hued wood to sit on a small stone pedestal. Sakura had never seen anything like it before, and was already thinking of places she could put it when Kakashi made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat. A quick glance at his face showed a storm brewing in his head. She lifted her hand away from the statue and slowly lowered it to her lap. In the lamplight the wood glowed as though it were living, but that didn't seem to sway Kakashi's opinion of it.

"What's wrong, Kakashi?"

"That is not an appropriate gift for our family, I will speak with Lord Uchiwa tomorrow and beg that he reconsider his gift. We cannot keep it."

"You are going to walk all the way to town for this? That will take half the day, Kakashi!" he nodded once, picking up a new package and turning his face deliberately away from the statue. Sakura checked the protest which was forming on the tip of her tongue, she didn't want to have a fight with him over a gift from someone she'd never met. He took a breath to continue, fiddling briefly with the gift.

"If he won't reconsider, Tenzou and I will drop it in the river, that is the end of it Sakura. Now, this is for you from the innkeeper's wife." With that, they were done speaking about the statue of the woman and the merry, fat baby. But that was just as well, for they'd been showered with other gifts. She would try and forget it.

A few minutes later, Sakura opened a package with a hand-carved box from Tenzou—who owed Kakashi nothing other than respect at first glance, but through his gift showed a years-long friendship. Despite their antagonistic relationship—there had been threats of having Tenzou make dinner himself if there was to be no fish, which had ensured them fish—the brown haired man had spent much time on the box. He had detailed the lid with herons in and flying over serene grasslands. The sides were an amazing work of vines twined together. Under Sakura's fingers, the wood was like the silk of the uchikake she'd worn the day before but it was almost warm to her touch where the silk had been cool. Glancing up at Kakashi and catching his eye briefly, Sakura ducked her head with a smile. Her fingers curled possessively about the edges of the box. It must have taken weeks, if not months to finish.

"So I see that is yours, a good thing I didn't grow attached to it over the winter. Although it is lovely—what shall you keep in it?"

Another present was the novel which was Shisui's personal gift to them. Sakura had opened the wrapping on it, and read the title emblazoned on expensive orange tinted silk—she had never heard of it, but Kakashi's hands had twitched after her words and she gave it over without making him ask.

"Your favorite?" his nod was silent, but the traces of his boyish grin played on his face.

"I shall read it to you someday—for now, however, I must beg that you keep Tenzou's box and I keep this wonderful novel."

Later that evening, after Sakura had made them dinner with the fish Tenzou had caught—even a good little meal for Pakkun, their new puppy—and later still after each of their baths, Kakashi couldn't help himself. Sakura had bathed first, so the hot, clean water could ensure that her long hair was flushed completely of the vile concoctions which had been put on it for the wedding. He had come into the house, into his room, and found Sakura.

Her hair, usually a soft pink when dry, was as vivid as a sunset because of the wet from the bath. The long strands of one lock were splayed out between the teeth of a comb as she tended to her hair before bed. He knelt, quietly and slowly, just behind her and touched her shoulder. Sakura's eyes, the color of grass, the color of spring, found his own good eye over her shoulder. Her eyelashes were pink, he saw for the first time—they had been blackened somehow every other time he had had the chance to look into her face. Perhaps with soot, or perhaps he'd never looked hard at her.

"May I comb your hair, Sakura?" those grass green eyes—he could well and truly say he had never seen eyes like his wife's—didn't widen, but her gaze did flick over his face for a moment. And then a comb was pressed into his hand—the one she had been using moments before he came in.

Without the waxes of the hairdresser and the snarls of sleeping on unkempt hair, it was an easy, soothing task. Certainly not the task of the morning, which had almost left Sakura crying and Kakashi himself highly unnerved. Her hair was nearly dry by the time he set down the comb, and Sakura gathered it back into a plait over her shoulder. He leaned in a little closer, but swayed back when she turned a little and met his eye.

"This might keep the tangles away until morning," she said getting up to put away the combs and get ready for bed. A few strands of her hair floated surreally to the floor in her wake. They were delicate, tinted orange by the light of the lamp, and they made him strangely happy. She had let him near, and there on the wooden floor was the proof.

Later, long after she had fallen asleep, Kakashi trailed his fingers against her long braid and marveled at the texture. He fell asleep that way.

* * *

 

Sakura had awoke in the darkness before dawn, before Kakashi, and just as she had the morning before, freed herself from Kakashi's arms to begin her day. Remembering poor Tenzou's trauma of yesterday, she got dressed and put her hair up properly before going out to the main living area. She had water heating and was chopping vegetables—getting ready for breakfast just as the day before—when Tenzou wandered in, stifling a yawn and running a hand through his hair. He took a second take at the sight of her, but this morning she didn't look like a deranged spirit and he didn't force her away to the bathhouse.

Sakura could feel the  routine of it settling into her already, which she was glad for. She heard the sounds of doors sliding open and shut in the house, but the sounds didn't produce Kakashi. Sakura slid a questioning glance at Tenzou before starting on the rice. He caught it, and cleared his throat a bit before answering her.

"He likes to pray before breakfast, rather than after."

"Oh," Sakura made a mental note to ask Kakashi to show her the family shrine—it was her duty to maintain it. She would also have to make him show her the family cemetery, where the death markers of the Hatake clan were. She would have to start making the offerings, burning incense, and cleaning those places.

"And I pray after breakfast," Tenzou added after her soft response. Sakura was quick to lift her eyes from the food to his face, leveling a hard stare at him. The brown haired servant wiggled under her scrutiny for a moment.

"Sakumo considered me to be almost family, and it would be a terrible ingratitude to not consider him in the same way." She didn't know what to make of that, and so awkwardly went back to her chore. Pakkun wobbled over to her—a sleepy puppy indeed—and collapsed himself at her side. She petted him absently while she stewed about Tenzou.

He was in his mid-twenties, and had been with Kakashi's family for years—a decade, perhaps?—and there was something about how he was treated that spoke of something lurking in his past. Despite Kakashi's willingness to bully him, there was also a sort of respect between them, as though Kakashi felt Tenzou deserved more than what he'd gotten in life. They looked nothing alike, and hardly acted like brothers so Tenzou being Sakumo's bastard son was an unlikely theory.

As she checked on their miso, Sakura realized that she couldn't learn everything in a day. When Tenzou was willing to tell her who he was, he would. It would be rude of her to ask now, when he hardly knew her.

"Tenzou, can I ask you to get more water from the cistern?" Sakura startled so badly she almost knocked over a pot. Kakashi had come in behind her, almost silently—using the crackle of the fire as cover. Tenzou, sitting across from her, looked up at him quizzically. Kakashi let out a dramatic sigh—he and Pakkun seemed to be good at those.

"I've just now remembered that Asuma and Kurenai are going to be here shortly after dawn—Asuma could only bear to give me two days of rest, when I asked him last week."

"Kendo and tea, then?" Tenzou asked, standing up and stretching. Sakura turned a little so she could see both men as they discussed their visitors.

"Indeed, it's probably kendo or hand-to-hand today," Kakashi replied, sitting down next to Sakura. His attention turned from Tenzou to her. "Every other day, Asuma and Kurenai come over in the mornings. Asuma and I practice, Kurenai makes tea and helps Tenzou. We'll have to see how that changes, since you're here now Sakura," at his boyish smirk, Sakura's cheeks flushed with warmth. It was ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. He was sweet, and he made her blush. Perhaps it was because of how serious he could be at times, that when he lightened up he was like a completely different person.

"And I can ask to borrow his pony and cart, for my errand to Uchiwa-sama's house," he said quietly as Sakura went back to her cooking. She didn't look up, even though it would have been polite to comment on his words. She  really liked the statue he had deemed inappropriate, but she wasn't going to fight him to keep it. Kakashi sighed and took her free hand in his. Sakura looked up into husband of two days' face, looking into his good eye.

"Sakura, it is for the best that we not keep that. Really, only a member of the Uchiwa family should have one. I'm honored that Lord Fugaku feels that I am part of his family, but there are boundaries which must be maintained between families and this is one of them. Do you understand?"

"Is this one of those weird samurai things that you're going to tell me about soon?" There was a beat of silence before Kakashi's eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile.

"You could call it that, yes."

In the pre-dawn light they finished their small breakfast, and Kakashi went on the hunt for his kendo bokken just in case Asuma decided it was kendo day. Sakura quietly cleaned up the food, laying out and pressing the leftover rice so she could make sushi later—once it was properly aged—and feeding Pakkun. Tenzou went to the river to get water to fill the cistern, mentioning that he would be back before Kurenai arrived with Asuma.

Sakura wondered why Asuma, the nephew of the village lord, was living so far away from his family's land. He lived on the edge of Kakashi's, and she wasn't sure yet if he actually lived on Kakashi's land or if he had his own which were situated close to the Hatake fields. It would make sense that he have his own land to care for, and as a samurai his own koku stipend from the Shogun based on that land. But it made more sense for him to have those lands close to those of his kin, which was what puzzled her. The Sarutobi lands had seemed to be on the far side of the village, near the shrine where she'd gotten married.

Maybe Kurenai would explain it to her, if she asked. Such a question was nosy, she knew, but Sakura felt like she couldn't deal with not knowing. There were other things she would  have to deal with not knowing or understanding, she could tell that much. Kakashi already planned on never explaining to her why the Uchiwa gift was so inappropriate, she saw from how he'd deflected her question, her request that he tell her more, that he was never going to elaborate. His pause before answering her had told her volumes, volumes that included shielding her from whatever it was that he felt was bad for the Hatake household.

* * *

 

When Asuma arrived, Kakashi suggested they do their sparring outside of the fence, leaving Sakura with Kurenai who would help her get further settled into the house. His old friend—once part of a wonderful trio when Obito was alive—could see something on his face it seemed, and agreed readily to the change in their routine.

"Married two days and you already dislike it? For shame, Kakashi," Asuma teased once they were a little ways from the house. Kakashi shook his head with a rueful smile. Asuma was a welcome distraction to the chore of the day—and he would also understand why it was so urgent. Already Kakashi should have looked at the gift and begged its return before Sakura even arrived—he  knew that Fugaku might do something like this. He was a liability to the Uchiwa, having been so close to them during his youth, having been the best friend of the clan heir, and it was logical to include him—he'd even taken a woman of foreign descent as his wife, it must have seemed obvious to the other family.

"No, nothing like that, I'm sure I will be as happy with her as Obito was with Rin—not everyone is as lucky as you are to get a love-match, Asuma. I'm troubled because of the gift Uchiwa Fugaku presented us with—I respect his own views, but they are not my own, I cannot keep it." He bent his head as he started his stretches, his friend doing the same in time with him. The sun warmed him through the dark material of his clothing, sending the chill of the morning air away.

"What is it that he gave you, my friend?" He and Asuma had made an agreement about what they would tolerate from the Uchiwa, and what they would draw the line at, long ago.

"A statue, of a mother and child. I have to ask, may I borrow—"

"Of course you can. I'll even help you load it up. You can't keep that in your house, especially now that you're married to a girl with  pink hair." They finished their stretches in pleasant silence, moving on to their training smoothly, having practiced together like this for much of their adult lives. Ever since Kakashi had returned to his family home after the Uchiwa were finished mentoring him. Asuma lived closer than Obito, and so it went.

They fought hand to hand, and each step was as though it was choreographed, each kick was delivered with surety, and dust swirled around their feet as sweat beaded on their faces. Asuma was broader than Kakashi, and he used that to his advantage when he threw his punches and lunges. Kakashi used his less bulky body to spring back with lightning fast kicks, dodging and feinting against hits that left his ears ringing if they caught him—all the more incentive to not let them hit him.

An hour later, Kakashi had gained an unlikely upper hand against his friend and had knocked him down. Asuma had laughingly stood up and clapped his hand on Kakashi's shoulder. He was limping just a bit, evidence of the injury he'd sustained two years ago, during the peasants' rebellion.

"After we get cleaned up, I'll go get Gin and the cart. We'll get that statue on over to Lord Uchiwa, and that will be the end of those troubles, yes?" Kakashi nodded gratefully as they turned their steps toward the bath house to wash up a little. He was glad he could trust in Asuma's help. His eye, the blind one, ached suddenly—Obito. Kakashi was perhaps paying Obito back poorly by his actions, but there were lines that couldn't be crossed, there were  rules that had to be followed. Obito had never been good at following the rules, however.

Kakashi had always been the one good at following rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: A butsudan is a Buddhist shrine which was and still is found in Japanese homes, although these days it appears less in city homes and more in country/rural ones. From what I read, it seems that it fell to the newest daughter in law to maintain this shrine—so that is what Sakura is up to. Also _ihai_ were the tablets/whatevers where one's death name was inscribed, because the Buddhist monks and priests would give you a new one after you died.
> 
> Funfact: Samurai had the right to "carry two swords," as I alluded to in like the very first chapter, but they weren't limited to two swords. The swords you need to know about are the katana (the longsword basically), the wakizashi (a short dagger/sword thing) and the tanto (another short dagger/sword thing. The sword Kakashi inherits from his father in canon is a tanto if I'm remembering correctly). Because things were…fairly peaceful under the Tokugawa samurai often tied their sword hilt to their obi with a fancy knot. 
> 
> Funfact: Tokugawa Ietsuna was the Shogun at the time, and just barely coming to the fore of his time as Shogun—regents were ruling for him at this time. Also, bakufu is the term for the Shogunate. It used to just refer to the guy's house, but after a while it was synonymous with the government entity.   
> T. Iemitsu, Ietsuna's dad, was the Shogun who laid down the banhammer against foreigners and their ilk during his time as Shogun (Rebellion of Shimabara 1637) and is in fact dead at the time of this fic. He offered some pretty lavish rewards to those who turned in others for harboring foreigners or foreign customs. 
> 
> Funfact: Shudo was a mentor/mentee relationship conducted as an institution among samurai, where an older, recognized samurai taught a pre-coming-of-age young man/older boy the ropes. This also included homosexual and homoerotic aspects, but these were expected to end once the younger man left his mentorship. 
> 
> Funfact: Iruka is living in Edo because of the practice of sankin kotai—the practice where a daimyo's wife and heirs were in essence hostages of the shogunate. The daimyo was also supposed to make a trip every other year to Edo to hang out with the Shogun, staying at bakufu-owned inns called 'ryoka,' where they were charged top-dollar. So they were broke constantly, or at least they couldn't raise armies against the Tokugawa anymore. Those guys didn't tend to fuck around. When his father retires, Iruka will live part of the time in Fujimi and part of the time in Edo—while his wife and any kids he has will live in Edo full-time. 
> 
> Funfact: In 1637 the Tokugawa officially banned Christianity in Japan after the rebellion in Shimabara. This wasn't a complete turn-around in attitudes toward Christianity, but it did unleash a lot of things. Many Christians in Japan continued to practice in secret, and they were called "hidden Christians," or kakure kirishitan in Japanese.
> 
> Long Funfact: Fumi-e were slates or prints of the Virgin Mary or Jesus, and after the Shimabara rebellion of 1637 they were used extensively to root out Kakure Kirishitans (Hidden Christians), and seem to have been used up until the 1800s. Basically if you showed hesitancy or refusal to stomp on the icon, there were some questions that the patrols would like to ask you in the comfort of your very own jail cell. And/or personal escort for a torture-fest in Nagasaki. The Tokugawa didn't mess around.
> 
> Funfact: THE STATUE. The statue which has been plaguing people for a while now. The Kakure Kirishitans appropriated a number of Buddhist icons and iconography into their religious material, carving crosses into the backs of Buddhas, putting Buddha in the center of crosses rather than Christ, and then making things like the statue. There is this Buddhist goddess of mercy called Kannon in Japanese, and there are several incarnations of her, and several ways of depicting her. One is a woman sitting with two children at her sides, which was super easy for the Kirishitans to appropriate into the Virgin Mary—so they did, calling her Maria Kannon. Uchiwa Fugaku had an extra one, and saw his chance to bring Kakashi into the fold following his marriage to Sakura—that was the statue he gave to Kakashi.

Sakura never heard what happened to the statue after that day, but her life in Fujimi was so busy that she hardly missed it. There was the garden to tend to, clothing to wash, the house to keep clean—the floors shone brightly because of her work, and more than once Tenzou or Kakashi had almost slipped as they chased one another around arguing about who was going fishing—Pakkun to housetrain, making the morning and evening meals, and finally her own personal projects. One of her projects was almost completed, too. A daringly shaded orange toddler's kimono embroidered with an intricate pattern of black fans for Shisui and Rin's upcoming wedding.

Kakashi saw to it that she knew her way around the little shrine kept in a small room just off the main one, telling her the names of his ancestors and relatives. In the quiet little room, where Tenzou's singing could only barely be heard, he'd told her about his father. They each were hardworking men, and life had very rarely smiled on them. Sakumo had taught Kakashi to endure, to show compassion, and to live. Sakura could tell that her dead father-in-law was greatly missed, and she resolved to keep him apprised of the goings-on of the household.

It was, very suddenly, the middle of summer, and Sakura only knew because of her radish crops. The spring radishes had ripened, and it was time to plant the fall and winter ones, and Sakura had laughed at herself for forgetting the passage of time.

She met a good deal of her new neighbors. They were pleasant to her, but none of them had homes even remotely close to hers and wanted little to do with her after their initial visits. Kakashi said not to hold it against them, they had never been on friendly terms with the Hatake. Asuma and Kurenai were the people she saw most regularly outside of Kakashi and Tenzou. This didn't bother Sakura because the people of Fujimi hadn't been kind to her for the most part before she'd married, so she avoided going to town. She had been there once, a little more than a month after settling into the house, with Kakashi at her side.

She had been terrified of the prospect of making the walk alone, but hadn't said anything to Kakashi. But he had somehow heard her, not even bothering to invent a reason to accompany her on the trip—other than a smile as he tied his katana to his side and adjusted his wakizashi and tanto, he never said a word about it. Fujimi proper, Sakura decided, was not a place where she ever wanted to spend time by herself. There had been much more than simply stares and whispers in the marketplace and in the few shops Sakura had needed to visit.

— Bewitched, I heard…

…he seems happier, but demons can trick you into believing anything—

—Struck a bargain, prosperity in exchange for—

—Must have been driven mad by grief. 

But Sakura had lived with those words her entire life, they had surrounded her family like a nosy, black miasma of ill-will. The words that had made her afraid of the town were the unspoken ones—the leering grin of a man Tenzou's age, the long stare of an elderly man, a teenaged boy trailing after them for three dozen paces. Kakashi's slow, measured steps next to her had Sakura walking as though she were attached to his elbow. How had her mother lived with this? How had her grandfather?

On the road home, Kakashi took her hand and brought the knuckles to his lips, speaking softly against the skin there. He would never have her go to the village without him. He didn't offer Tenzou in his place or even Asuma, he promised her that it would be him and no other. Kakashi didn't trust the townspeople either, it seemed.

* * *

 

In Edo, the capital, in a cavernous room deep within Shogun Ietsuna's palace, a conspiracy was being disclosed to the advisors of the head of investigations. The night air was hot and muggy even there, the worst part of the summer in the capital. A young man had entered the grounds at around sunset, being led through spacious halls and receiving chambers toward his appointment with these men. But that was hours ago, moonlight now shrouded the grounds he had passed through, and lamps and candles were lit sparingly throughout the complex.

The young man, who looked barely twenty, knelt in the center of the darkened room. His head was bowed and the lamplight flickered in his hair, his hands rested on his knees. He stayed silent as the older officials debated in hushed murmurs. The gloom hid their faces, and their dark, formal clothing didn't make them any easier to see. They were seated on a small dais in front of him, close enough that he could hear their words despite how they tried to be discreet. There was a great deal of shock at his revelation, of course.

The young family head of the Uchiwa, Uchiwa Itachi, was abandoning his family, nearly without remorse it seemed. Oh there was remorse, he wanted to tell them— never believe for a second that there isn't remorse , the words were on the tip of his tongue. His mother's face flashed in his mind, and he prayed then, his lips moving in the familiar shapes of words that had been taught to him at a young age, as they were to all children. The men in front of him couldn't see his mouth, and in any case what could they really do to him if they did? Torture him to find out if there were others part of his nefarious plot, during the meeting where he told them explicitly who was involved in it?

"Uchiwa-dono, are you really sure this is the path you want to take?" They were giving him an out—of course they would try to. If the heir of the main branch of the Uchiwa house took his words back now, then these men could conveniently forget that this visit had ever happened. His family was ancient, descended from a distant royal relative in the distant past. Of the major samurai families, the Uchiwa certainly commanded respect. If he took back his words, his claim, then his family would remain safe from their treason, safe from their beloved clan heir. A safely blind eye would be cast towards their beliefs, their practices, and their continuing betrayal of the bakufu.

"I have given it thought since I was first placed to receive my training. I was supposed to be taught by the head of a small samurai family in Fujimi, but upon arrival there I was taken directly to the family house of an uncle. It was then that I started noticing how so many people were kept carefully at bay around us." Itachi sighed, asking for strength to tell the full truth, separating himself from the lies he had been nurtured on.

"We live in terror and secrecy, and against the laws of the shogun. It is not honorable for a family such as ours to so greatly defy the government and the emperor. We deserve our fate."

They had conferred again, this time talking louder as though they need not keep their debate from his ears. These were the words of action, not words of counsel between officials. Itachi bent his head again, this time looking at the folded letter he had brought with him, laying on the ground as innocently as any other correspondence. It contained the proof as well as all who were involved. He prayed that his family had kept the infection to itself, rather than dragging other respected families to darkness with them. Shogun Ietsuna would never be as powerful as his father Iemitsu, but he still deserved Itachi's loyalty. He didn't do this for the riches the law promised him, he did this to regain his family's honor.

"You may return to your city home, Uchiwa-dono, please await there for further instructions. Do not leave the city." Itachi gave a short bow and stood, bowed again, and was shown out of the room. The servant who accompanied him through the grounds walked slightly ahead of him with a lamp to fight away the gloom. The light did nothing to fight the gloom which surrounded Itachi's heart.

He measured his steps through the city, and his thoughts trailed to Iimori where he had grown up. His mother was from there, the third daughter of the village lord. His own father had been quite taken with the mountain village and had kept a house there where he raised his family. The man had died, however, when Itachi was ten and living in Fujimi with his uncle. His uncle, Fugaku, had adopted him in some fashion—getting official permission to raise Itachi and his younger brother Sasuke, while keeping their lineages separate. Fugaku already had his own heirs at the time, and hadn't wanted the main branch of the family to be his responsibility  entirely .

Itachi hadn't been back to Iimori  or Fujimi for a long time now. His cousin had died during a rebellion in the district, and Fugaku had been terribly shocked by Obito's death. Fujimi was a place filled only with sadness during the last few years—and Iimori was not much better. Itachi had instructed his younger brother to marry a girl there and that the two would care for their mother, but to his great dismay Sasuke had refused the order preferring to maintain his shudo relationship with a Kyoto lord for a while longer. Itachi had brought his mother to Edo in the hopes that being close to her would ease his guilt at the subversive tendencies of the branches of his family. And someone had to care for her, after all.

When he finally faced the house, Itachi breathed in the choking, moist heat of the night air deeply. He missed Iimori especially in the summers. There it was high enough that the summers were bearable, cool breezes sifting through the warm-almost-hot air of the mountains. Itachi decided, as he stepped up into the house, that before the arrests swept through Edo and Kyoto in the winter, he would visit Iimori at least one more time. Even Fujimi would be better than this cloying humidity in Edo. He would at least try, perhaps ask that as his reward for his utter loyalty to the shogunate. His brother, whose life for so long had taken first priority in Itachi's mind, faded in the face of his recent willful disobedience.

* * *

 

Kakashi enjoyed people who didn't dabble, who didn't practice strange hobbies or behaviors. Dabbling, in his experience, led only to weirdness and getting mixed up in things one shouldn't. He had been dabbling with the Uchiwa family circle when he had met Rin in his youth, he had been dabbling with fighting alone when he had lost his eye. Life had taught him, excruciatingly, that dabbling was not good for him. It was hard to see why others would do it, or make a habit out of it. The Uchiwa had been dabbling against the fierce laws of the shogun for years, and Kakashi had long ago decided where his loyalty would ultimately lie if the Uchiwa's experiment blew up in their faces.

He and Sakura did not attend Shisui's private wedding to Rin. Kakashi did so knowing that while they were welcome he did not need to dabble with such things. He had to walk a much straighter path these days. Shisui understood, he was sure. Kakashi had put himself in danger of being too closely associated with the Uchiwa because of Sakura. But his old ties to their clan had put Sakura in danger, which went against his vow to shield and protect her. It was a terrible place to be if the Uchiwa weren't discreet, he couldn't do that to Sakura.

She had  saved him, the least he could begin to do was to fulfill those promises he'd made to her in the spring. His farmlands, kept flooded until just very recently, were flourishing as though someone had enchanted them. They were well tended because he and Tenzou no longer had to devote parts of their day towards making food, washing clothing, changing the water of the bath—all the little things Sakura did which built up towards saving them valuable time.

And that was not all. She was sweet to him, in a way that left him hoping. It seemed now that he cared for her hair nearly as much as she did, combing it each night and braiding it. He knew this was reserved only for him, because one morning he walked into the cooking area to see her drop onion slices in Tenzou's tea, glaring at him fiercely. Only a moment after she did so, she noticed him standing there. A blush had crept down her face slowly, staining her neck even. Tenzou had apparently pointed out a loose lock of hair, it was later explained, and Sakura had destroyed the poor man's morning tea for it. Kakashi hoped this wouldn't become a habit in his household, onion tea was nasty stuff.

In the evenings, after Sakura had cleaned up their supper, when it was growing too dark to work and Tenzou went to heat up the bath, they would sit on the porch. The nights were starting to cool sooner, so it was quite pleasant to be outside just after sunset. They'd sit close together, Kakashi sitting crosslegged while Sakura knelt properly with her feet tucked beneath her. They would speak about the next day—if Asuma was coming over, whether or not Sakura and Kurenai would be doing the washing together in the morning, and Sakura would occasionally ask if he had finished his book. She teased him that he was reading it slowly on purpose, to keep her from borrowing it.

He was not reading it slowly to keep her from it, he had finished it three or four times by now—but it would be some time before he showed her the contents of that book. For the time being he just took her hand and covered it with his own, reeling her in and kissing her, telling her as he leaned back that he would read it to her soon enough and that she had to have patience. A few kisses here and there when they were alone was all he afforded himself other than the pleasure of holding her close as she slept. She kissed him before settling down to sleep each night, but he was going to let her decide how fast the two of them progressed. For the time being, her goodnight kisses were more than enough.

There was another side of her, too, that was just as appealing as how she treated him. Kakashi had never seen this side, he had only heard it and glimpsed it. Sakura cared for the Hatake ihai, stored carefully in the butsudan, it was her duty as his wife. She had left the shoji open one morning, and Kakashi had been about to pass by without bothering her when his brain caught up to what she was saying.

"I hope that the smell of this is pleasant to you. I know that you are used to incense, but the work that went into it should please you far more than incense burned by a woman who didn't know you." Kakashi sank to his knees in the shadow of the hallway, whatever he had been about to do immediately forgotten.

"I stole it from the field this morning, but how else could I have you know? Kakashi won't mind, he is a good man. He has gotten so much warmer since I've been here, no one—besides my mother and father— has ever looked at me without disappointment in their eyes somehow. But Kakashi…" he was hanging on her words now, even as she spoke in a far softer voice, "…he looks at me as though he loves me. I wish you could see him through more than just a burned stalk of rice, I wish you could tell him so much more than you got the chance to…"

Kakashi didn't stay to listen more, instead silently standing and backing away from the butsudan room and instead racing outside. It must have been the smoke from Sakura's improvised incense that tore at his eye, and the stuffiness of his nose an artifact of disturbed dust in the lightly used room he'd been outside of just now, nothing more. His father had burned rice stalks in late summer for Kakashi's mother, and now Sakura was apparently doing the same for Sakumo.

Once he was leaned up against the fence, facing the fields he had cultivated with his father for years, Kakashi pressed his hands to his eyes and tried to stifle the urge to weep. Even his blind eye ached, but he held steady against it. Once the terrible feeling passed, Kakashi took several deep, calming breaths as he looked out across the fields. Something serene settled over his shoulders then, erasing the despair of only moments ago. He had had time to  feel , more time than he'd had in what seemed like years. He was…happy. His life had been lit by Sakura's presence, being brought into a balance it had never had before. Slight breezes waved the tops of the rice plants, the blades flashing like Sakura's eyes when she teased him. Hatake Kakashi was happy. A smile tugged at his mouth against this will.  Him , happy.

* * *

 

The rice had finally matured and dried enough on its own to be harvested. Kakashi and Tenzou went out to the field regularly each morning to inspect it after it had started to turn golden under the sun's heat, taking Sakura with them to show her the process. In the days leading up to the start of the harvest, Tenzou sharpened the sickles they would be using, and Kakashi taught Sakura how to properly cut the stalks and tie them, laying a solid handful down crosswise over another solid handful and then tying them together so that the V they formed was maintained—to make it easier to hang the rice stalks up over the scaffolds. She also found herself enlisted to help build those scaffolds where the rice would finish drying. She held up the poles they were using as beams while Kakashi and Tenzou quickly tied them into place. The scaffolds were as tall as she was, high enough to keep the rice off the ground but not so high that it would be difficult to hang the bundles.

On the day they started, the sun was blazing down on the fields in a freak heat wave. Asuma and Kurenai joined them, which made the day go faster for her. The steady shick-shick-shick of the sickles was soothing in a way as the sun's heat bore down on their backs. Everyone was faster than she was, having practiced it for years, but Kakashi patiently worked next to her for most of the morning. They periodically shooed Pakkun away from the tied bundles and Kakashi more than once set the half-grown puppy nipping at Tenzou's heels. At midday they ate a small meal to get them through the rest of the day.

Sakura wasn't quite exhausted, but she was miserably tired. Her father had never farmed in his life, having been born into a family of life-long merchants, and he had never had his family learn.  Sakura had learned just fine in the last few days and this morning, it was her  muscles which hadn't quite learned yet. Still, she readily stood up to head back out to the field when everyone was finished eating. Pakkun yipped and voiced his dissatisfaction with the current outside-in-the-boring-sun ideas. She clicked her tongue as Kakashi did and pointed at Tenzou in response, and the dog bounced over to the brown haired man to hassle him.

"Sakura," Kakashi surprised her by taking her elbow and bringing her to stand close to him. The others were already heading out back to work, and his low voice ensured that they wouldn't be overheard. "I want you to switch to tying bundles after me as I work, it will be faster." He was so close, his nose six inches from her own, "You are doing well, but if you exhaust yourself today, then you'll be worse off tomorrow and the next day. This is something that takes practice, and I am proud you're doing so well. But I need you more for the rest of the harvest than the rest of today—can you help me?" She nodded and leaned a little into him, resting her forehead for a moment on his collarbone before stepping away.

The rest of the day had gone by in a blur, for Sakura an endless blur of tying bundles of rice together after Kakashi cut them down and laid them out. It was creeping towards sunset when the five of them backtracked their steps across the field to stack the bundles of rice on the scaffolds. She and Kurenai put the stacks on the outstretched arms of the three men as they walked back, and once they reached the scaffolds moved the rice to those. With a weary farewell, the older woman and her husband walked back across the field to their own home while Sakura, Kakashi, and Tenzou went into the house.

Sakura had planned a cold meal for them, knowing that she would be too exhausted by the end of the day to make a hot one. Her arms ached as she swung the hot water pot over the fire for tea—she wanted it for herself, but the other two were surely to want some as well to relax a little. Kakashi and Asuma had gone to the bath house to wash away the grime, so she was alone for a few moments. Her father, who had been to a few other places in the land because of his business, said that in the far south there were two rice harvests each year. She shook her head at the thought of harvesting twice a year, planting twice a year, everything in relation to rice twice a year. It sounded grueling.

Tenzou returned from the bath, looking tired but a little refreshed, and took over for her. The water wasn't yet half hot enough, so at least he had something to take over. Sakura grabbed her things—a small towel, a comb—and walked out of the house towards the small building where they kept the ofuro. Pakkun was playing in the yard with a sandal, no doubt stolen from one of the two men, which Sakura confiscated from him. The fuzzy little brown puppy they'd been given was growing into his fur finally, looking less like a dog-shaped fuzzball and more like an actual dog, albeit a bit fluffy.

"So that's where that went," Kakashi said from the doorway of the bath house. Sakura smirked and waved his sandal a bit before tossing it to him. Pakkun whined at their feet, gazing longingly at his stolen toy as Kakashi slipped the sandal on. Sakura laughed a little at the poor thing.

"I think it's because you've trained him to go after Tenzou's feet. There must be something about them that is interesting to you, he was just finding out what was so fascinating about people-feet." Kakashi huffed a laugh before starting towards the house. Sakura turned a little to watch him go. His hair was a bit damp and it was getting very close to sunset, making his hair seem more gray than white, but it stuck up in odd places like it always did. She couldn't see his face, but she knew that his left eye was shut while his right would be relaxed—almost tired looking. Kakashi was a handsome man in his own way.

After her short bath, she returned to the house in the twilight where Tenzou was just finishing making tea and setting out their food. The idea of a cold meal was a great one—if she'd made a hot meal, they would be eating well past dark.

"Kakashi, why do Asuma and Kurenai help with our fields? Wouldn't he be more worried about his own right now?" Sakura only asked once everyone was settled into the meal comfortably—tea cups filled, food halfway eaten. She'd wanted to ask this question from the start, but there had never been time really. Or at least, a  proper time. Tenzou shot a look over at her a moment too late, telling her that the question was a little too forward, but the question was already out. Kakashi cleared his throat to answer her in what turned out to be his own roundabout way.

"Asuma and Sarutobi-sama are related, you know. Sarutobi-sama is Asuma's great-uncle, so they would never have grown close in any case…but he and Asuma don't see quite eye to eye a lot of the time. Especially in the realm of responsibilities owed to the lord of the village as a family member of the lord—Sarutobi-sama expects that Asuma act as an advisor to Sarutobi Iruka when he returns from Edo to succeed his father."

"And Asuma feels otherwise?"

"Asuma feels that to be a slap in the face of Iruka's training and abilities, a dishonor to the position of daimyo which Iruka will hold."  But what did that have to do with  Asuma's lands?

"To enforce the message that Asuma will spend much of his time helping to run the village as well as the territory the Sarutobi control, Sarutobi-sama 'gifted' Asuma with a living which included no land."

Sakura stared at Kakashi, stunned.

"He will be much too distracted in the future to manage his own land, let alone run it, is what Sarutobi-sama is saying. Best to not get attached to things he can't have. Asuma won't disobey his uncle anymore, but they can't stand to live under the same roof. So he built that house with my father's permission, and will help us here until Iruka takes his place as daimyo." She couldn't even find words, so Kakashi continued, his voice a little softer as he comforted her as he could.

"It makes Asuma proud to be able to work any land at all, and we don't speak of what his family is making him do. Just as he doesn't speak about how we treat Tenzou far more equally than would be expected of us. Do you understand?" She nodded quietly—what else could she do? The three of them finished their dinner in relatively pleasant silence, save for the whuffles and snuffs of Pakkun who was sniffing their clothing eagerly—scenting out what rice smelled like, it seemed. Sakura fed him once she had finished her own food, absently petting him. Kakashi, now that she had balanced all of the family and estate books properly, was much freer than her father's old friend seemed to be.

But Kakashi's words had turned Sakura's thoughts towards Tenzou. She had been living here for nearly six months, but each of them still twisted carefully around the issue of  who ever Tenzou  really was. Mentioning that Asuma also participated in that game where Tenzou was a servant had only drawn attention to the fact that still none of them had told her why the game was really in place. They wouldn't keep it from her for very much longer, she decided. Once they had brought in the crop, she would ask Tenzou. Kakashi would never tell her, she was sure of that. He meant well by it, but she needed to know—and it was Tenzou's business too, he should be able to talk about it.

The next day was not as hot, but just as sunny. Sakura could feel her skin drying and burning under it, but she didn't mention anything. What could be done? They needed her help, it wasn't as though she had budgeted for traveling workers when she had reworked the family accounting books, and she had already prepared everything they would need later on in the day—from the unusual midday meal they would take, to the easy, almost completed supper meant to save time and energy after a day outside working, to the extra bundle of wood she had left out in the bath house to properly heat up the ofuro. There was nothing to do if she  wasn't working, so why not work?

The five of them chatted lightly throughout the day. There wasn't much else they could do than that, seeing as they were all out there and weren't ever all that far apart from one another. Sakura spent the morning working nearest to Kurenai—Kakashi said he would have her follow him in the afternoon, that she should take the morning to work on her own. She learned a lot about her neighbor, who she had never met before coming to Fujimi. Asuma had always been on business alone when he had visited her father, and although Sakura had known he was married she had never heard him speak of Kurenai—Although apparently he whined to people that he missed her when he was away from home—according to Kakashi. Getting to know the older woman was a welcome distraction to the tediousness that was rice harvesting.

Their efforts, by the end of the day, had nearly cleared the fields—tomorrow they would finish harvesting and hanging the rice out to dry, and then in a few days they would burn the chaff and stubble, finishing the season by tilling scorched land over. As their neighbors got farther and farther away across the now almost empty fields, and Tenzou went into the house to start their dinner, Sakura took the chance to lean tiredly against Kakashi. Her entire body hurt, or ached, it seemed. Her legs and back were screaming at every move she made, and her arms were only marginally more impressed with the recent exercise. There were tender spots on her hands from tying the rice stalks together tightly as she'd been shown to—tomorrow those tender spots would be blisters, she was sure of it.

Kakashi put his arms around her, engulfing her in a warm solid hug. He let her slump into his hold, with what was surely one of his indulging smiles—Sakura couldn't see, her face pressed up against him as it was. He was pressing a kiss against her hair when he paused for a long moment, standing completely still, which almost had her breaking away from him to see what was the matter. Until he chuckled softly and kissed her hair again, bringing one hand from around her shoulders to lift her head up so he could look into her eyes.

"You smell like my rice—I like it," he said before he tilted his head to kiss her soundly.

* * *

 

It was Itachi's great-grandfather who had decided to commission the statues, a set of three at first and then a set of five—trying to appropriate the traditional numbers associated with Heaven and Earth. Apparently Madara had been advised to commission a set of four rather than five by the man who had taught him, but four was an unlucky number to be associating with—everyone knew that. The fourth and fifth of the second set were given to Itachi's uncle Fugaku many years ago, and to Itachi's knowledge had remained with him since then.

The grandest statue out of the initial three was safely hidden in the family house in Edo, in a secret room concealed in the butsudan room. It was Itachi's favorite, he had always felt that the woman depicted looked like his mother, despite the fact that there was no way she could have modeled for the artist. But, he supposed in his adulthood, the woman was supposed to look like a troubled man's mother. She was supposed to resonate with the troubles of men after all. She was also the source of Itachi's troubles, she  should be the one to fix them.

Itachi's father had made him stomp on her face as a child.

He had been given a fumi-e by a family friend as a sign of sympathy and love, and he had taken it home to his two young sons, having devised a method of protecting them with it. Itachi remembered how his father had yelled at him to stamp his foot, how three year old Sasuke had started crying. They were each childishly in love with the soft, sad woman on the page, and it was so terribly cruel to do that to her. Their father had periodically forced them to stomp on the little page up until his death. The first time that Itachi understood  why , however, had been when he was thirteen. The family carriage was stopped just outside of Edo, and they'd been asked to get out—all of them. With only the tiniest of apologetic glances towards them by the leader of the group—so tiny it took Itachi years to really decipher it as an apology one would give a blood-brother—a metal tile was thrown to the ground. On the face of it was the same soft, sad woman as on the paper from six years before.

He hadn't even batted an eye before putting his foot resolutely over the tile and stomping as he'd been asked. His family had followed suit after him, and soon they were on the road again with profuse apologies from the patrol who had stopped them. When he was twenty a similar scene had happened all over again as he traveled to leave Edo to give his blessings—as head of the entire family—to Obito's widow's marriage to Obito's brother. That trip was when he realized that among the men who had stopped them back then was another just like him.

Itachi bowed his head deeply in front of the statue and prayed for that man, hoping that he had come to his senses in the intervening years. He knew that a peaceful, forgiving smile looked down on him but that didn't stop the anger welling up inside of him. Sometimes he felt that if she and her Son had any mercy in them, they would have struck down his family for going into hiding as they had. His anger, though, was always directed at his family and his ancestors—for not standing up to defend their beliefs, for not standing up for a mother and child.

They had left it for him, and even now he was taking the coward's way out by reporting them to the bakufu and allowing the government to deal with his family for him. It was all so much more complicated than "they were breaking the rules," after all. The Uchiwa had been hiding their religion for nearly fifty years, having been among the first converts to renounce their faith in public but retain their practices in private. Uchiwa Madara had been more paranoid than a Tokugawa, Itachi had been told, and had decided that hiding was the best option for his family.

And it wasn't just a strange sect of Buddhism that the Uchiwa had begun to hide—they practiced the faith that had been brought to Japan by the Spanish and Portuguese sailors more than a century before. The patrols had been looking for kakure kirishitans, using the images held most dear to many kirishitans against them—Maria Kannon's face sometimes floated up in Itachi's dreams, bruised and bloodied by his foot. His only comfort was a conversation with his mother—that the actual Kannon must have been Christ's mother, and that she forgave them all for what they had done. It was a hollow comfort. Everyone that they revered in their faith had suffered publically, had spoken of it publically, and had died publically—and Itachi could only look around himself at his family, living in hiding.

What the Uchiwa were doing was far worse than plotting rebellion, it was living,  existing in rebellion, and it wasn't even an honorable rebellion either. That second incident with the fumi-e patrol had rattled him, and it was then that Itachi had decided to turn his family in for their treason. There was no way he could turn only himself in, and there was no way he could turn in everyone else  but himself. He was only lucky that his mother was in poor health and that he and Sasuke were unmarried and childless.

He stayed in the hidden room for several more hours, praying silently that he be forgiven in prayers memorized in rote as a child. And in the gloomy inner, hidden room, he felt a measure of forgiveness emanating from Heaven—Maria and her son had endured everything possible according to the things Itachi had been taught, and they understood his pain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: Kamishimo : type of samurai clothing that gained popularity in the 17th century.
> 
> Funfact: There's normally a HUGE festival after the rice harvest, but I'm rationalizing that they don't go to the festival because (1) they live far out of town and (2) Kakashi probably doesn't want Sakura to be unnecessarily traumatized by the people in Fujimi. Basically the festival is where you eat fresh rice, make and eat fresh mochi, and drink a whole ton of sake—to celebrate that you have rice. So yeah, Asuma and Kakashi have their own party at home.
> 
> Funfact: Remember when Sakura worried that Kakashi would have a mistress and make her (Sakura) raise his kids with the woman? Yeah, that didn't happen in this guy's situation. Won't spoil it at the moment! But yeah—that was an actual thing that happened sometimes. It was also kind of okay to adopt your illegitimate kids, because people shrugged their shoulders like "An heir's an heir."
> 
> Funfact: Shunga were those erotic pictures and stories that I've been talking about. You can think of them as mini-manga but they were usually a mix of pictures and written story, as "manga" at the time was just a book of drawings with either no linear story or no story at all. They were also usually twelve pages long, but Kakashi's book is actually 144 pages long because it is 12 separate stories.
> 
> Funfact: Samurai carried around shunga a lot, and most people in larger cities had copies of their own, even housewives. Sakura comes from a small mountain village though, and was rather sheltered. 
> 
> Funfact: A tansu is a storage chest/box/dresser where you'd keep your clothes and stuff.
> 
> Funfact: Albinism is rather common, at least more common than you'd think, in Japan—at least according to the infallible internet. Yes, this is true, and apparently the 22nd Emperor of Japan, Seimei was albino himself (one of the ones who may or may not have been made up).
> 
> Funfact: If you visit someone's anything in Japan, bring gifts. Gifts like WHOA. Got it? Got it.
> 
> Funfact: There were lots of rules about how you had to talk to samurai, because they were the highest-class people that you would be likely to encounter on a walk down the street. You wouldn't encounter a daimyo, lord, or other aristocrat and most certainly wouldn't encounter a member of the imperial family—and if you did, you wouldn't be talking to them, you'd be throwing yourself to the ground in respect. Or not, but then your neck would get intimate with an axe.
> 
> Funfact: Those of you who know the actual translation of "oni" know that it means something far more terrifying than "demon," but for the purposes of this story all (three) of us have overlooked that. Demons and their ilk in Japanese mythology are effing terrifying, as in you need a new fundoshi (Samurai-style undies) after seeing one. But people were actually pretty cool if they outwitted a demon, troll, ogre, spirit, anything—because hey, you, a lowly weak human, outwitted an effing supernatural being.

Kakashi and Asuma had sequestered themselves on the porch with sake from Asuma's uncle—a gift he gave all of his relatives, and curiously enough Kakashi. They were all bone-tired after finishing the last of the harvesting earlier in the day, but the two of men seemed to need some time alone to unwind from the stress. Sakura didn't exactly understand, but Kurenai had advised her to just let them be. Instead, she and Tenzou told her about how the next few days would go—after the rice had dried.

They'd fallen into a comfortable silence when Asuma's voice called for Kurenai. Sakura listened intently for her own name for a moment, hoping that Kakashi didn't need her as well. With Kurenai's departure, Sakura was alone with Tenzou for the first time in days—she could finally question him in relative peace.

She studied him, trying one last time to figure out who he was just by his appearance. He was about ten years older than her, a little younger than Kakashi. In moments where it was just the three of them, his posture was as straight and formal as Kakashi's was sometimes—those times being when Kakashi entertained guests, because otherwise he was relaxed as Tenzou rarely was. But that was the end of what she really knew about the family servant. He or Kakashi both ensured that they only spoke of light things concerning the past when she was present, and he exchanged pleasantries and even jokes with her sometimes. But they weren't close, and she couldn't help but feel that that was on purpose. She wasn't supposed to ask, but she did. It was rude, but that hardly stopped her.

"Tenzou, who are you? Really?"

The look on his face was grave in the firelight, the muscles taut with surprise at her low-blow of a question. He couldn't get out of this without seriously offending the lady of the house—and Sakura knew Tenzou well enough that he would do a lot, but seriously offending her was never something he sought. But he couldn't escape her question. Kurenai would have deflected Sakura's question, were she present—and Kakashi and Asuma were already in their cups, distracted by their small celebration. He'd answer her, finally.

"Sakura…"

"Tenzou."

They stared at one another for a long moment, and Sakura was reminded of that scene a year ago when Tenzou had refused to speak to her at all. Neither of them had won that stand-off because of Kakashi and his giggles, but Sakura was certain she would win this one—by any means necessary.

"It won't be onions in your tea, nor will it be as harsh as having you sleep out in the fields—but I  will think of something to do that will force you to tell me eventually. We can avoid all of that, if you would just tell me. Tell me what is it that no one talks about, what is in your past that hangs so dark about your head, Tenzou?"

He turned his head a little away from her, shamed. Sakura felt something twist in her middle—it was that terrible feeling she got whenever someone brought up her pink hair or her family's occupation, as though all of the judgment in the world was focused on her in that moment for something she could hardly help. She was making Tenzou feel that way, and it hurt, but she  had  to know.

"Your heart is in the right place, Sakura. Kakashi tries to bear so much more on his shoulders than he should—It is usually best not to question his motives, or go behind his back, but I'll tell you this. He shouldn't have had us keep it from you for so long, but I asked him that we leave this past behind us once you were here—I didn't know exactly how he'd go about doing that, but it's how he wanted it. Don't let on that I've told you this, understood?" Tenzou leaned to the side slightly and rearranged his legs. His eyes were flat as he glanced at her briefly before shifting a little more until he was comfortable.

"My mother was a high-born lady, a princess." He looked directly at Sakura for a moment then, daring her to contradict him or laugh. She stayed silent, knowing that she only probably had until Kurenai returned from whatever Asuma had needed her for. Her shock could wait for later, when she had some time to herself.

"My father is a lord, from Kyoto," he paused for a long time, hanging his head as he continued—and Sakura felt that knife of embarrassment twist a little further in her, for Tenzou's sake.

"They were never married, and my father has never acknowledged me as his heir let alone his  son . My mother passed away when I was a few months old, and until I was five, I was raised in secret by one of my mother's servants. It was then that my father decided I ought to be kept close to him. When I was eleven he sent me to Sarutobi-sama as a servant, as punishment for my 'insolent' behavior around his household." Tenzou's voice was bitter and tightly controlled as he spoke.

"Insolent?" Sakura's voice was tiny in the darkened room, even as Asuma's laughter raucously erupted from the porch, Kurenai's softer laughter following, and Kakashi's voice rose a little to chastise his friends.

Tenzou also laughed. But it was only humorless and self-mocking.

"I asked him why I was not sent to train as a samurai—I am his only son, after all, despite being his bastard. I was only with Sarutobi-sama for a year before he sent me to serve Sakumo and Kakashi. Sarutobi-sama wanted me to be free—and I couldn't be as free as he wanted me to be while living on a daimyo's estate," his smile turned wistful, content almost.

"However, I can be free here. Sakumo taught me the way of the samurai, he believed that I would eventually rise to claim the place where my parentage should have put me—he called me 'the little prince,' and when it was just us here he treated me like his son, and Kakashi treats me like his brother as well—you've of course noticed that I'm the much abused younger brother." His wry smile drew a timid one out of her, as he let her know that he didn't hate her because of her curiosity.

Sakura shivered at the thought of one's father sending one away to be a servant—there were even fewer obligations owed to servants than to wives, which if serving the wrong family could be terrifying. Tenzou it seemed had been lucky, very lucky, to have been placed where he was. Looking at him in the darkened room, lit only by the fire and a single lamp, Sakura felt that he knew just how lucky he had been.

"How many people know about who your father is?"—her curse of curiosity was because she had escaped having in-laws, she was sure of it now. Tenzou, surprisingly, relaxed a little, a smile curving barely into his regularly stoic face.

"Oh, most people in the town, I think, due to Sarutobi-sama's estate servants, although very few people know that Sakumo taught me how to conduct myself like a samurai as well as all of the fighting skills I would need as one. But Fujimi…unlike you and Kakashi, I can't stand the whispers that follow me when I'm there—it's unbearable." Sakura had her own wry smile at that.

"I can't stand them either, it's why I've only been there once since I came here. I understand your point completely, Tenzou. Why were you placed with Sarutobi-sama, Tenzou, I thou—"

The slide of a shoji made both of them twitch—Kurenai was coming back inside. Her cheeks were flushed and she ducked her head a little in embarrassment as she gracefully sat down, as though Sakura and Tenzou had heard whatever it was that Asuma had said. At least, Sakura hoped it was something Asuma said, she would be mortified if it had been Kakashi's words which had her only friendly neighbor in such a state. No sooner had she settled herself, and managed to take a few calming breaths did Asuma follow her into the house, his arm clapped over Kakashi's shoulder in some bizarrely close gesture of brotherhood.

"Kurenai, my old friend wouldn't ever say it, but I've grown too loud for his quiet house and I should withdraw myself homewards—and I of course cannot leave you, my lovely, dearest wife here alone in such a reserved and honorably silent household." Sakura noted that it was only Asuma's hands which seemed to have lost their normal finesse due to the sake, his eyes were still sharp, and despite how pink his cheeks were his tongue didn't slur any of his—rather effusive—words. Kakashi seemed mostly unaffected, although his boyish smile plucked at his mouth a little more visibly than normal. Kurenai stood, carefully smoothing her yukata before she bowed to Kakashi and then to Sakura, thanking them for the evening spent in their home.

Kakashi showed them the way out and returned, sitting down just a little slower than he normally did. Sakura had never seen him inebriated, they didn't have the kind of money which would support the regular consumption of sake and Kakashi knew that—which, Sakura suspected, was why he had allowed himself this evening of drinking with Asuma. The sake from Sarutobi-sama wasn't paid for from their precious savings, he could have a small holiday with it for an evening. Her white-haired husband was content in his silent relaxation for only a few minutes, soon standing up and extending a hand to Sakura to help her stand up—he was surprisingly sturdy on his feet despite how long he had been outside drinking with Asuma. He pulled her in close in the way he had gotten into the habit of, and she felt her blush sweeping up her neck to her face—she could feel the way their hips fit together, and he was doing this in front of Tenzou as though he'd quite forgotten his presence, and after her conversation with the brown haired man it was a little embarrassing.

"Sakura, while we were outside Asuma said Kurenai's eyes were the most beautiful to ever open," he paused, a laugh playing at his lips briefly, "He's wrong, you know, he should owe me money because Kurenai's eyes would have to be the color of grass if they were to be the most beautiful to ever open." Sakura bowed her head a little at his compliment, and he pressed his cheek against her hair. He sighed after a long moment, straightening so he could properly order Tenzou around. With the revelation Tenzou had provided her with, Sakura saw their interaction with new eyes—Kakashi was the overly-involved bossy older sibling, definitely.

"Tenzou, see that this is put away properly—and have some of Sarutobi-sama's sake, it will do you good. Now," he tilted his gaze back towards Sakura, remembering something at the last moment. "You and I have to get to bed if we want to pick up that sapling your father arranged to be sent to town—it's a long walk to Fujimi you know."

Although Kakashi fell asleep quickly that evening, curling around her in his sleep, Sakura found rest elusive at first. Tenzou's situation plagued her. He was no ordinary servant, or even an ordinary man—he was an aristocrat's heir, or a prince of the imperial family, and he was here. In Fujimi—a four or five day walk to Tokyo, over a week from there to Kyoto, and Tenzou was  here . It was going to be hard to follow his wishes and act as though she still knew nothing, that  Tenzou was somehow nothing—she marveled at Kakashi's ability to do so in spite of how close they were to one another-brothers, she could believe that.

* * *

 

It was past midday when they finally finished planting the tree, and Kakashi kept Sakura cuddled next to him on the porch. They were ostensibly examining how the maple tree had changed the mood of the garden, and to be fair Kakashi  had noted the changes. It was obviously a newcomer, the ground around its tiny trunk disturbed and tamped down, but it fit somehow with the well-aged garden it found itself in. There was the sense that the tree would grow smoothly into place without disturbing anything.

He was still dressed formally, and he took full advantage of his hakama-clad status by corralling Sakura between his legs, putting his chin on her shoulder with his arms wrapped around her middle. Sakura had blushed prettily as he held her, at first, but after a while had relaxed into his arms. A thrill of happiness surged through him at that, and Kakashi was glad that Tenzou wasn't there to see the stupidly proud grin on his face—and Sakura was facing away from him, so she couldn't see it either. On second thought, she probably knew how he looked, seeing as she could probably feel his grin from where his cheek pressed against her neck.

It was right around when he realized  that , that Kakashi also realized another thing.  Paradise was tucked into his front pocket, in his kamishimo, stuffed there out of habit—it wasn't unusual for a samurai to carry around a book or print of such a nature when dressed formally for town. But it was unusual was for him to be so close to Sakura—he had her where she couldn't escape—when he had the book with him.

His stupidly proud grin morphed into a devious one. Kakashi unwrapped an arm from around her and reached for his book. He would read her the fairytale, it was the least indelicate of the stories after-all, and the better stories would have to be saved for the future. Paradise was by an unknown artist and writer—their identity kept secret likely because they were a high ranking official or lord, someone who couldn't be seen writing and drawing romances. But not only that, Paradise was special because it was a book of twelve stories, each told over twelve pages—most other shunga books were only twelve pages long. It was by far Kakashi's favorite piece of literature, the writing was superb and the drawings were done so elegantly...

And perhaps it would help break through some of Sakura's shyness with him. She never turned her face away when he kissed her, but she acted like he would pounce on her some nights, while others she would lay down to rest easily with his arms around her. It was getting to be maddening, despite the moniker his father gave him as a child "the little Buddha," to reflect his wells of patience.

With that, Kakashi brought out the book and paged through it on Sakura's lap practically. The first page was just the story, only text and no pictures. Sakura twisted her head around, her face puzzled. Kakashi only smiled and pecked her cheek with a kiss.

"I'm going to read to you, if that's alright." Her eyes, he would never get used to her eyes—he actually hoped they would always surprise him—held his for a moment, trying to suss out why exactly he was choosing now of all times to read to her. He had, after all, promised he would someday.

"Yes, okay." Kakashi grinned and kissed her again before jostling her a little to get her to face forward once again. As the story progressed, her neck slowly flushed red until even her ears were bright with the color. He listened as her breathing changed subtly as the two characters acted out their love but her attention remained rapt, and he realized he wanted to be the reason she reacted like this. He wanted that attention directed towards himself.

Within moments the book was discarded completely and he had her in his arms. He knew she wasn't ready to let him make love to her, one story—even from Paradise—wasn't enough to change that, but that didn't mean he couldn't hold her close and kiss her senseless. He let her know what he wanted, was ready for, with those kisses. Sakura would give herself when she wanted, and he also let her know that.

* * *

 

Tenzou was minding his own business. He had seen Kakashi and Sakura off to town early in the morning, stood watch faithfully at the gate of the house as they disappeared into the distance. And then he'd been about his day. He had checked over the garden in the back—Sakura had done well so far with it, but for so long Sakumo's Garden had been  Tenzou's garden that it was hard to believe that Sakura was taking proper care of it. After that was finished he had changed the bathwater in the ofuro and also refilled the cistern they had near the house. After that he got out Kakashi's winter kimono from where they'd been stored and put them into the tansu in the master's room—in short, Tenzou had kept himself occupied while the master and lady of the house were away in town.

When they returned, he helped them plant their darling momiji right where they wanted it—Sakura had brightly told him that they'd agreed on it a year ago, when they'd been engaged. He managed a smile for her at that—she wasn't all that bad, and she was perhaps trying a different tack to get to know him today than she had last night. Namely a more subtle one than the blunt questions she'd had him answer.

But really, he was just minding his own business. It was typically best, he found, especially where Kakashi was concerned. Which was why he had retreated into the house to finish some other chores, leaving Kakashi and Sakura to be alone together. They'd been getting so close to one another in the last few weeks, and while it was a welcome change to the awkward moments in the spring and early summer when Kakashi had to reach a hand out to get Sakura to follow him to their room…it was still nothing that Tenzou wanted to see. Or overhear, or any of it. So he set himself on a few more chores. He was minding his own business, quite happily in the main living area.

And that was when he heard Sakura's nervous giggle followed by a light laugh from Kakashi. The sounds were coming from outside, on the porch—and Tenzou cursed himself for leaving the shoji open. He had thought to let in the last of the warm summer breezes which would be quickly turning into the briskly cool ones of fall and the icy ones of winter, he hadn't even thought that those two would subject him to listening to them  flirt . There was no way to close the shoji without alerting them to his presence, to the fact that he had heard them and was horrified to have done so—Kakashi wouldn't've cared, but Sakura would be tightlipped and embarrassed for days, clumsy with her discomfort. He also didn't want to put an end to whatever it was merely because he was uncomfortable. Kakashi needed an heir, and Tenzou highly suspected he knew  why his master didn't have one on the way already.

If this supremely unnerving situation would smooth out whatever wrinkle Kakashi and Sakura had, Tenzou was willing to stay silent. He stood up as slowly and silently as he possibly could and then silently padding farther back into the house where hopefully he wouldn't hear any more of their flirting. Or whatever else they were occupying themselves with. His grumbling woke Pakkun, and the half-grown dog blinked at him in puzzlement before settling back down to sleep in the coolness of the dark hallway Tenzou passed through. He wished he had just closed the shoji, he really,  really , did.

* * *

 

Itachi's mother had been in delicate health ever since his father had passed away. They had been committed to one another in a rare way, and Itachi was sure that if it hadn't have been for Sasuke—barely five at the time—she might have let herself waste away completely. She had made her children her life after his father's passing, but she was often ill. If they had been a poor family, she would have died by now. These days she was quite frail, and rarely left their house.

The trip to Fujimi that he had asked for and been allowed would be her last, Itachi could feel it. His mother might not even make it to Fujimi, let alone live long enough to be arrested. This was going to stress her system to the point of breaking, but Itachi didn't want her to die in prison, awaiting execution, betrayed by her own son. If he could hasten her death this way and save her from that…he would. His brother he left to the bakufu's agents. In a series of letters over the last several weeks, Sasuke had indicated his plans to be formally adopted into his master's family as the heir-apparent—despite Itachi's strong counseling against such a move. He had even gone so far as to outright forbid his brother from doing such a thing—and Sasuke had gone so far as to blatantly ignore him, writing back to tell him such.

And so Itachi had decided not to try to see his brother before the arrests started—they were apparently brothers only in name and faith and little else. He had no use for such a distraction as Sasuke in the coming weeks.

* * *

 

Sakura missed her mother and father—early on she had been so off kilter from their abrupt departure from her life that she hadn't had time to ache for their presence. But now, two weeks after the harvest was completed, all the rice was stored properly, and the leaves of the trees were starting to turn, she missed them. Her mother and father loved to sit outside with her and look at the autumn leaves falling, comparing their colors sometimes to Ume's hair, and drinking hot teas in the brisk turning-to-winter air. She knew she could do those things with Kakashi, or even Tenzou if she were desperately lonely, but it just wasn't the same.

Her parents had been her world for most of her childhood—she had been shunned by most other children because of how she looked—she had a wide, tall forehead,  green eyes, and her  hair . Her mother had had the same problems, but Sakura couldn't but feel that hers had been far worse—her father wasn't as feisty as her grandfather had been, and Masaki didn't inspire the bone-chilling fear in their neighbors bones as Ume's father had. Until Sakura was seven she had had no friends, and even then she gained only two. Ino and Hinata were sisters, and each had been married off as soon as possible, at fourteen and fifteen. Ino had reached out to Sakura because Ino herself was cursed with snow-white hair and pale watery eyes—apparently Hinata was as well, but she was the eldest daughter and had her hair dyed black by her parents, something which Ino refused to do. They'd been her only friends until their marriages. She missed them too, having been able to see them sometimes in Iimori, but she missed her parents far more.

Deciding to bring it up soon, Sakura subtly checked if they could afford a trip to Iimori—depending on when they left it could be a two day journey rather than a single day's walk, and also planning for if it stretched into two days because then they would need to stay at a ryokan. After  that they would also need to bring gifts to give her parents as thanks for allowing them to visit—and Tenzou might require Asuma's help, which would require a gift probably as thanks. On top of those worries and budgeting concerns, Sakura also felt she would need to get something for Tenzou, seeing as he would be left alone with Pakkun for several days. The dog liked Tenzou quite well, but played  quite roughly with him—and him only, Pakkun didn't dare lift a tooth or paw against Kakashi, and was made of playful yips and tail-wagging for Sakura.

Kakashi was combing her hair as was their usual tradition when she mentioned the trip to him.

"What would you think of going to Iimori this winter for a few days? We could stay with my parents," the comb didn't twitch or even pause in her hair as Kakashi smoothly finished the stroke. There was nothing to be nervous about, but Sakura still wished she could see his face as he thought over her idea. She still remembered the flecks of silver in her father's hair, and the way her mother had held her tea cup, but remembering was not the same as seeing.

"Yes, we can do that—if we can afford it," he reached around her to take her hand, setting down the comb so that his other arm could wrap over her shoulders to hug her, "knowing you, you wouldn't have suggested it unless we could. Poor Tenzou, alone with Pakkun for a week. When would you like me to write to your father? Tomorrow?"

The blinding smile she gave him was more than enough—with that it was settled, and he eventually went back to combing her hair. And the next morning, true to his word, Kakashi wrote the letter as she and Tenzou cleaned up breakfast. Sakura was standing to get her list to check off a few of the morning's chores when Kakashi glanced up at her from where he sat still composing his words to her father—in his eye was the expectation that she accompany him to Fujimi to see it delivered.

Their walk, later on in the morning, was as uneventful as it had been the previous three times they'd gone to the town-proper of Fujimi. It was going to be a cool day, with slight breezes sometimes making it almost chilly—fall was in mid-swing, and winter would soon be upon them. Sakura walked close to Kakashi—for closeness mostly, but also to put a damper on her nerves. The last time they'd gone to Fujimi was over three weeks ago, and she had felt even more threatened than the last time she'd gone. It was as though the villagers were gaining an immunity against their silent or whispered judgments and were moving towards open confrontations. At least, as open a confrontation a commoner could have with a landed samurai. Kakashi's rank would hopefully keep tensions at a lower boil than they had been sometimes in Iimori.

As they approached the town gate, Sakura threaded her hands into the crook of Kakashi's arm and more precisely matched his steps. She planned on keeping them there for the duration of their visit—she had no letter to deliver, no reason to do anything but cling to Kakashi for support. His free hand moved to cover and hold hers, while a quick glance up at his face revealed his wry look. This was the town he'd always lived in, it probably pained him that she was so afraid of it.

After submitting the letter to her father to be delivered to the Springtime merchant's shop in Iimori, Kakashi asked softly if she needed anything in town—there was little sense in returning next week for something which could be gotten today. All Sakura could think of was perhaps some dried fish, to start saving some for the winter when no fresh fish would be had. So it was as they walked across the village towards the merchant that the dreaded question finally came, called out across the street and directed towards Kakashi himself.

"What do you owe that demon that you had to marry her after wishing for luck and fortune, Hatake-sama?" Kakashi's back didn't go ramrod straight as Sakura had almost expected—but then again, neither did hers as she had known the question would come out somehow or other. But Kakashi did turn—taking Sakura with him, attached as she was to his elbow—towards the questioner. He obviously recognized the voice, while Sakura tried not to look like she was going to start crying.

"Noriaki-kun, I don't owe her anything more than your father owed your mother—although I plan on repaying my debt with far more gratitude than he did. You could wish for luck yourself, if you were brave enough to find and marry a demon girl—it doesn't take much I assure you," he said, a laugh hinting in his voice, "my Sakura is quite harmless, as you can see. And of course, once you prove yourself brave enough to seek her hand, she will grant you fortune and luck as a reward." And then with a smile, Kakashi turned once again to lead the way to the merchant. By the time they finished their business there—Sakura having been too flustered to remotely remember what she needed—and walked outside once more it seemed Kakashi's words and defense of her had spread like wildfire through the various shops and main-street houses. The stares they got along the way to the gate were unlike any Sakura had ever faced.

The villagers were shocked that the truth they had all known had been so freely admitted, even used as a taunt against their own. The strange, white haired samurai had married a demon girl and been rewarded with worldly success because of it. The staring faces they passed held also a grudging amount of respect—everyone knew after all that demons could hold a human form if they wished, but in their true appearance were terrifying even to adult men. She managed to hold her head just as she was supposed to until they were a far distance from the gate of town, and only then did she bend her head to hide her tears—tears of what, she didn't know. Her hands were trapped by Kakashi who wouldn't let them go even when she tried to tug away, and the last thing she wanted was to lean against him as her support. Because he had just fed the village exactly what it had wanted to hear since they'd first caught a glimpse of her—they wanted to know if she was really a demon or not, and he had told them outright that she was. So she just hung her head and cried since he wouldn't let her go.

"I know you're upse—no, you are more than that, you're  angry with me. But now no one will ever ask again," she couldn't even wipe at her eyes because he still firmly had her hands tucked between his elbow and his own larger hand, "their curiosity is satisfied and their rumors will stop—they won't—"— damn him!

"Kakashi! Stop, just—just stop. You just told the entire town, confirmed it in broad daylight that their rumors are true, that I'm—I'm n—I'm not  human , how will they treat me now that they 'know' that about me? Yes, they'll stop whispering after me, after us, but only because they don't have anything left to gossip about other than what kind of demon I am! For my entire life I've had to fight that, and deal with that, and— how could you? " her voice was rising and rising, breaking occasionally from her tears. At some point she'd wrenched one of her hands away from him. The thought of slapping his face momentarily flashed through her mind, but one look up into his eye killed the idea, he looked as though she'd already slapped him. Her free hand instead moved to cover her face as she tried to hide—from her husband, herself, the world, Sakura couldn't decide. She just wept bitterly.

As he was fond of doing but very cautiously now, Kakashi wrapped an arm around her waist and held her but instead of putting his cheek against her head he pressed his lips against her forehead. It wasn't a kiss at first, just something to put his skin against hers somehow. When he finally spoke he only lifted his lips away from her skin just enough to mumble. His voice was low—and sad.

"Because I  love you, Sakura—I love you more each day, I can't bear to see you in pain, and I thought that they would stop hurting you so badly if they could just stop waiting for an answer, but now," his arms tightened around her and he took a breath as though it pained him, "now I wish I hadn't answered them, I wish I'd known how sorry I would be for doing so. Because I am, Sakura," he did kiss her forehead then, it was tender and lingered even once he stopped, "I am so very sorry."

* * *

 

The trip to Fujimi took six days because of how slowly Mikoto's litter had to go—any faster and she would wince in pain at the jostling motion of it. Itachi was already forcing her to do this with the ulterior motive of hastening her death, but he didn't want to put her in undue pain. The family doctor had strongly advised against Itachi's idea of bringing his mother with him, but in the end had to bow to the Uchiwa family head's orders. The doctor had confirmed Itachi's belief that if he were to take Mikoto with him to visit his uncle Fugaku, she wasn't likely to survive the trip.

Against all odds, she had survived the trip—Itachi had, after-all, inherited his both stubborn streak and his faith from his mother—but Mikoto was left bedridden. She was in pain as well as too weak to stand—but she was happy to be in Fujimi. Aside from Obito, who had passed away, and Shisui who was living in Edo, she was able to see her three nieces and some of their children. If Itachi hadn't brought her here with him, she wouldn't have gotten to see them. At least, she saw them with smiles on their faces now rather than seeing them in prison, awaiting execution—if she survived the trip to Nagasaki that is. Itachi was convinced that despite how cruel it was to drag a dying woman across Japan, his mission had been one of mercy.

Itachi was subtle in asking his uncle-turned-father-figure about the family situation—trying to find out if they had done anything he would need to tell his contacts in the government about, like converting anyone in the township. His questions were vague—where there any weddings in the last year that he should know about? Any new families in the town? His uncle was open with the information, always saying that he prayed  for them when they weren't kirishitan and saying he prayed  with them when they were. It was so painfully easy, and Itachi was glad that he had managed to provide up-to-date information to the shogun's investigation team. It would be painfully embarrassing to have to revise his statements, and doing so would perhaps cast doubt upon his certification that the names he provided were the only kakure kirishitans he knew of.

That was the exact opposite of what needed to happen—he needed the investigators to have complete faith in his testimony, he needed them to be forgiving men who would spare the lives of his infant second cousins. Itachi knew that he would likely only get the former rather than both, but he was trying to be hopeful as he faced down his death. The investigators were to enter Fujimi fourteen days after Itachi's arrival, and the arrests would take place the following day.

It was a little more than a week after their entrance to Fujimi that his mother had started to weaken significantly—the doctor said she would pass away within the next day or so, giving her not even another week to live. Itachi took over care for her, feeding her and helping her to drink, everything. He was sure his face was haggard, sleep-deprived lines carving their way into his cheeks in all likelihood. His mother could very rarely sleep herself, she was in a great deal of pain most of the time it seemed. It was in the early hours of morning—or the very late ones of night, Itachi was far too exhausted to care—they both lay awake in her room, lit dimly by a single lamp. His shoulders rested on Mikoto's futon, his head tucked against her hip as she lay flat on her back. Her hand rested against his jaw and her thumb stroked back and forth on his cheek.

Itachi stared up into the gloom of the rafters, listening to his mother's labored breathing. She would probably die before dawn, and for the first time really her death became  real to Itachi. For the past six weeks he had regarded himself and all of his relatives as dead, but his mother was  really going to die soon. All of their deaths were his fault, but hers was the only one he could control and so he had.

"Kaa-san?" he heard her turn her head to face his voice a little, indicate that she was awake and listening to him.

"Would you still love me if I were to do a bad thing for a good reason—for the right reason? Would God?"

"Yes, and yes. God will always love you, just as I will always love you."

He stayed silent for a few minutes after that, while his mother continued to stroke his cheek with her cool thumb. He could sense her eyes looking at him, asking him about the strange mood that had taken over him. Itachi breathed in a long sigh, knowing that he had to tell her—she had to know, she couldn't die not knowing that soon the entire family would join her in Heaven. He found he couldn't be loyal to both his religion and his state and live—but he  could if he were dead. She also had to know about what he had done. He wondered if she would still love him then.

"Are you sad you're dying here? You were strong enough to wander through the streets in Edo a few weeks ago, you could have ranted your love for God then and died for Him, but you're here instead because I made you." She didn't say anything for a moment, just lay there in silence, her thumb sweeping across his face.

"We all do as we are planned to do. We choose our paths, but it was God who laid them out and He knows they are best for us. It was planned for you to come here and bring me with you, there are no more questions after that my son. Nothing God plans is ever bad, Itachi, and actions are always the right ones if you feel Him guiding you towards them, even if they're painful or you don't understand them." Her soft, weak voice trailed off, but her thumb maintained its soothing rhythm against his skin. For the first time since he had betrayed his family, Itachi let his guard down. Silent, hot tears slid from his eyes, trickling into his hair on one side of his face and hitting his mother's feeble hand on the other.

"Thank you, that helps—I love you Kaa-san."

He knew she smiled, because she always smiled when he told her she had helped him. And he also knew that she had seen through his questions and knew what he had done, she had perhaps always known that he couldn't shoulder both his family's faith and his loyalty to the entire system of Tokugawa rule—she was his mother, she was supposed to know those things. With that small measure of peace he let himself fall asleep with her hand still cupping his cheek.

When Itachi woke up again, seemingly only moments later, her thumb had stilled on his cheek and her fingers were limp and cool to the touch. Uchiwa Mikoto was dead.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: Tokugawa Ietsuna's dad Iemitsu didn't tend to mess around with his anti-Christian campaigns or his rooting out of such people. I'm assuming that the old guard which served as Ietsuna's regents for the first…I don't know…fifteen years of his term as shogun would've been of Iemitsu's mind on the matter rather than Ietsuna's pansy stuff.
> 
> Funfact: Ietsuna rolled back the law/tradition/thing that had samurai killing themselves after their lord fell. He was like "Guys…guys…wow. Cool your jets. It'll be okay, you'll serve him better by being alive to prevent massive anarchy after his death." He seemed like he was one of the more chill Tokugawa dudes. If by wielding an axe makes you more chill than the guy with a chainsaw, but yeah.
> 
> Funfact: The almost mafia-style of clan power-struggles and the like are pretty common in history, the Evil Uncle trope didn't come outta effing nowhere. Especially in Japanese successions, there were lots of power dynamics to be had—age, influence within the family based on lineage, lots of stuff. Fugaku is the head of a split-off branch, but his brother was the family head. His brother's kids take precedence for family/clan leadership, but if he had enough backing he could've easily put his own children (in this story, remember we're bearing with that) in that place. Usually in most accounts of this the usurped heirs met nasty, bloody, and quick ends.
> 
> Why? Because the Japanese didn't tend to mess around with left-over heirs and the like after the Sengoku period—before there had been a rich history of "Oh the kid is only 2, they won't ever grow up hating me for killing a man they never knew!" and then 20 years later choking on their own blood as the kid shiv'd 'em. So usually if someone seized power of a clan, family, region, etc, the heirs of the previous leader moved to a new estate located permanently under the lawn. 
> 
> Funfact: Executions took place in the fall or winter, when stuff was dead. You almost never saw executions in the spring because that's when stuff was getting back to life. You wouldn't want to be that jerk who scared off spring by beheading some dude near the peach or cherry blossom season—wouldn't that suck, be the guy who did that. So they tried not to do things like that. A summer execution was way more common than a spring one, but really one would expect an execution in the fall or winter.
> 
> Funfact: Hakama are actually both formal pants-things as well as riding attire. If you look at most medieval Japanese clothing…well…a lot of pre-western-barging-in-like-jerks Japanese clothing, it's mostly composed of robes of various lengths and functions. How do you have a mounted cavalry when everyone is wearing robes? Answer: Hakama. There're all these special ways to take care of them too—you have to fold them a certain way to retain the pleating, and you have to store them so that the folds don't come undone. 
> 
> Funfact: North was/is an unlucky direction in at least Chinese and Japanese tradition, it was where ghosts, demons, and other Bad News Bears came from—In this period in Japan people put special little markers on the north facing or northerly corners of their homes to bounce the demons away. The northern part of Honshu, the main island, was pretty bad—while Hokkaido, the far northern large island, was considered completely evil, unsalvageable. It had only been added to the official territory of Japan around the 17th century, so while contemporary to our story it was still kept largely at arm's length.

Kakashi held her close to him, wanting her near yet knowing she drew no comfort from the embrace. They stood in the middle of the road that way for a long time before he loosened his arms from her slightly. He knew he had ruined something, he just didn't know how much he had ruined. Somehow their isolated world on the farm had him becoming forgetful of Sakura's life, of her experiences and her feelings about that life and those experiences. He had assumed the role of her protector eight months ago, but he  hadn't done that today—and perhaps he hadn't been doing his duty to her for even longer. He couldn't even figure out when he had started to become derelict in his obligations toward her, and that made Kakashi sick to his stomach.

He knew they couldn't go back home and face Tenzou the way they were now, but nor could they stay on the road. Her face was red from tears, and Kakashi's heart ached at the sight—he wanted to wash those tears away, he  had to wash them away. He knew that less than a ten minutes' walk from where they stood was the large stream which wound its way through the southeast end of the valley—it was the same stream that he and Tenzou fished from, farther upstream. Wordlessly Kakashi bent at the knees and hoisted Sakura up to carry her, supporting her at her shoulders and knees. He wouldn't make her do anything for now, not even have her walk—he owed Sakura some sort of penance for what he'd done. She lay against him bonelessly as the tear-tracks on her face dried and tightened the skin on her cheeks. She was silent for the entire walk, not one word of recrimination or anger or praise or even ambivalence passing her lips. Once he reached the stream bank he gently let her down, only letting go once he felt her legs steady over her own weight and then turning to kneel at the edge of the bank.

He dipped the sleeve of his haori into the water, wetting the dark blue cotton but not soaking it, and then stood again to face her. It was just as he lifted the make-shift washcloth towards her that he hesitated and despite how he tried to hide it, the pain had to have shown on his face. It was all useless. To pridefully think for both of them, to take advantage of the fact that he had her complete and implicit trust, to hope that his love alone would be enough for any difficulties they faced. His hand and his damp sleeve retracted away from her to fall limp at his side.

Kakashi felt as broken as he had in the months following his father and Obito's deaths, and the shame that he had betrayed his wife's trust bowed his head and weighed heavily on his shoulders. He didn't flinch when Sakura took a step closer to him, but he did when she put her hands on either side of his face to lift his gaze to hers. How far had they tumbled backwards because of him, he wondered as her eyes steadily looked into his open one.

"Do  you think I'm a demon?" And right then Kakashi knew what the true betrayal had been—he had been the one to reach out for her, unafraid of rumors or whispers, and barely an hour ago he had set those rumors into the stoniness of fact. He pressed his cheek into one of her palms as he reached up and took hold of the now free hand, putting it over his heart as he had the previous winter.

"No, I don't.  I don't ," he insisted, wishing he could force her to understand this one thing. Her expression showed distrust which was easily read. Just by looking into her eyes he could tell what was going through her mind, that Sakura couldn't know if he had a casual belief in her otherworldliness, a deep one, or none at all—the sheer  ease with which his retort to Noriaki had left his lips was indicative of the former two but not the last. And suddenly everything was spilling out of him, as it had out on the road.

"You've had to fight gossips your entire life, and your first way of dealing with them is to wilt, and quiver and tremble. There's no way I can possibly understand that, but Sakura," he pressed their hands tighter against his chest, "I have to watch as my wife, the woman I've come to love, shrinks back from her acquaintances as though they'll insult her or demean her in some other manner. I couldn't, can't, and will no longer stand by for that." Kakashi took a deep breath, glancing away from her face and pointedly not staring her down.

"I wanted nothing more than for you to be able to stand up straight and be the one dragging me through town not the other way around." He knew the damage with the townspeople was done, there was no way to take back what he had said, and all they could do now was deal with the fallout of what he'd confirmed to Fujimi. His eye turned back up towards hers as he got used to the feeling of how badly he'd shamed her felt on his shoulders. It wasn't an easy weight to bear, but he would do it.

"Sakura—I don't believe you're anything more than human. You look ethereally beautiful sometimes, when the light strikes your hair at certain times, but at the end of the day you are just as human as I am."

She shook her head a little at him then, her fingers sliding into his hair. She took her other hand out from under his and he let her. She held his eye and Kakashi couldn't even blink to break their gaze, even as she grasped his sleeve and tugged it upwards. He got the hint and lifted his arm on his own then, grabbing his dampened sleeve and bringing it to her face. Sakura closed her eyes finally and for the first time in more than an hour a smile tugged at her lips. His free arm twisted in behind her, bringing them closer as he focused on cleaning away her tears.

"Next time we're in town I'm going to say I cursed your hair, Kakashi," she teased, her eyes still closed. He felt his own eye get hot, and he refused to admit to himself that there might be tears pricking there. Of all the ways he could have messed up with Sakura, he had to have picked the most vicious of all of them—he was lucky she was even willing to begin forgiving him, let alone actually doing so just now.

His silence was apparently taken as a question, however, and Sakura spoke again with laughter ghosting through her words.

"Yes, I most definitely cursed your hair." So she was going to keep on about it until he responded then?

"But my hair has been like this for far longer than we've been married, Sakura."

"Nope, I cursed it. Because I'm magic," she opened her eyes then and took his breath away. Her eyes were so wonderfully green compared to the brown and black eyes of regular people.

"Yes, you are, Sakura. You're quite magical," he stopped wiping her tearstains, which were long since gone, and leaned in close enough that their noses were almost touching. There was a flash of something nervous in her face, but it was quickly smoothed over and replaced once again by her teasing.

"And I made you fall in love with me too, becau—"

"Because you're magic, I've known that much," he interrupted her mostly so he could kiss her, just a quick press of his lips on hers, "And I do love you, and I'm glad that I do. You are so unique, and you're mine—now I just have to work to deserve you."

* * *

 

Six days after Mikoto's funeral armed guards followed by investigators of the shogun stormed the Uchiwa estate. It was shortly after the morning meal. The Uchiwa women had gone to their private activities in their own rooms, the children—Itachi's young second cousins—were either taken to their lessons or allowed to play in the gardens depending on their age. The men had also gone to their various pursuits, some sparring, others reading or studying, and still others staying to meet with Itachi to discuss family matters. He was the clan head and some things would always require his approval or knowledge.

Everyone wore mourning clothes, and the mood was generally solemn. It was jarring to hear the laughter of children but it was ignored—both the feeling and the children's laughter. They were too young to know the gravity of the death of the clan mother. Itachi knew he looked depressed and withdrawn, but inside he was in a world of calm. He was glad for the mourning outfits his extended family had clothed themselves in.

Especially as the shouts of the Uchiwa servants and guards rose up across the estate, followed by the yelling of men and screams of women—and Itachi refused to let the shrieks and wails of children affect his calm, even as rough hands seized him and the men he had been meeting with. Instead he had started to pray aloud, trying to encourage his relatives to do the same. Soon they would all be with God, every one of them. But Itachi didn't and in fact couldn't know  how soon—would they be executed this very fall? Or was the Uchiwa family and its branches too large to take to trial within the traditional execution season?

Itachi smoothed his mind over the sounds of swords clashing and the yells of his clansmen as those who had time to grab their swords did so—he hadn't wanted his family to go out fighting, but it seemed that some of them would. He continued to pray after his own guards had bound him, leaving him in the room they were putting the women and children—cutting the clan head, the directive force of any family, off from the body of the men he controlled. Cautiously the children and then the women started to follow him in prayer, although some still gave themselves over to inconsolable weeping.

Some of the shouts he refused to acknowledge were questions—mostly of why this was happening, while others asked after wives, children, and occasionally Itachi picked up on their requests for him and his whereabouts. Gradually, less than an hour later, the fighting outside calmed. Guards appeared and escorted Itachi and his companions out to one of the main gardens where the men and servants were bound and watched. There were men who were injured, both lightly and badly, in the ranks of his family members, and farther away Itachi caught a glimpse of the dead—both their attackers and his family—being piled up away from the main group of people.

The air smelled faintly of blood, and hotly of fear.

* * *

 

Sasuke was staying with his cousin's family in Kyoto, as he had moved out of Orochimaru-sama's house—formally ending their relationship as mentor and student, as well as in preparation for his adoption as Orochimaru-sama's heir apparent. His cousin and the man's wife had been summoned to greet a guest by a servant only moments beforehand when Emiko's scream rang through the house, sending chills down the spines of everyone who heard it. Her scream was cut abruptly short.

After that, bakufu agents stormed into the house and started taking all they encountered prisoner—and brutally subduing those who resisted.

* * *

 

Shisui had realized Itachi's plans immediately when the man had suddenly relocated himself to Fujimi and taken Mikoto with him—and it was only a day after this that Shisui took himself and his wife into hiding. He had been Itachi's best friend for years, he almost felt insulted that Itachi thought he could hide his actions and motives from his cousin. Itachi had never been able to easily stomach hiding from the authorities, that much Shisui had always seen. The rest of their family had written his behavior off as stress—he had been made clan head at the age of eleven and had taken responsibilities for the clan at the age of thirteen, his life was  admittedly stressful.

But Shisui had been sent to Edo for more than just an easy way of hiding Rin's rebellion from the family. Fugaku had begun to doubt his decision to not merge his branch family with the main one—the one Itachi descended from, the one which gave Itachi the claim of clan leadership. Having raised both his own sons and those of his brother, Fugaku could have decided that the older Obito was a better choice for the head of the family—and Itachi had been ten when his father had died, whereas Obito had been nineteen and recently married. One was a man and the other a child, a mere boy.

But that would have put pressure on Fugaku in the form of keeping Itachi from his rightful inheritance, and at the time he hadn't wanted that. It was only recently that Fugaku had started to feel that perhaps Itachi should step down and let Shisui guide the family. Whether Itachi could feel this or not was irrelevant—what  was relevant was the fact that Itachi had most likely turned on the family and exposed them and their faith to the bakufu. Shisui was not a man to simply allow himself to be killed by doing nothing—if the government wanted him and his wife dead, then the government would have to search him out.

He didn't dare try to leave Edo, he was sure there were orders to keep all Uchiwa family members inside the city, but he did beg one of his friends in town to hide him and Rin. He cited fear for his life, that Itachi believed him to be trying to usurp the clan from him—a believable enough story if one knew the family dynamics but wasn't part of them.

When the bakufu's agents stormed the Uchiwa city house, Shisui-sama and his wife were nowhere to be found.

* * *

 

The middle of the day—several days after the disastrous day in Fujimi—found Kakashi and Sakura relaxing on the porch. Tenzou was weeding the garden, having banished Sakura to sit with her husband. Sakura sat against one of the posts holding up the awning, and Kakashi had his head comfortably laid on her lap. He had his book propped open, just high enough above his nose so that he could actually read it. He had been reading aloud to Sakura earlier, but this other story never failed to bring a blush to his own face and he couldn't even begin to think he would ever read it to his wife. Sakura was running her fingers through his hair and humming softly, which made it hard to focus on his book—she could be quite bewitching when she wanted to be, and Kakashi smiled at the thought.

It was comforting that, however painfully, they had aired their thoughts and opinions about their relationship and of each other. Kakashi felt closer to Sakura, and it was as though she felt closer to him as well. Setting his book on his chest, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, looking up at her face as he did so.

And it was then that they heard horses thundering on the road, faint but growing in volume with each passing moment. Kakashi lifted her hand away from his lips before sitting up slowly, calling for Tenzou to check on the road. The brown haired man nodded once, already standing and dusting his hands off before heading around to the front of the house. Kakashi stood and then helped Sakura to stand as well, but didn't say anything about the sudden, urgent noise, or even Tenzou's raised voice hailing the riders. He did feel something ominous drape itself over him, however, at the sharp stop the riders—five of them?—reined their horses to in front of his home. He half considered having Sakura go inside to start tea or a small snack, but Tenzou rapidly came back, but through the house this time.

"Kakashi, you need to come out to the gate, they'd like to see you," he said clearly, bowing formally which he rarely did anymore. Kakashi's sixth sense for danger kicked into overdrive at his servant's behavior.

"Have they asked for Sakura?" The people in Fujimi thought Sakura was a demon, but an outsider to the town would perhaps not be so forgiving. Kakashi suspected that his sudden visitors were most definitely not Fujimi locals.

"No," Tenzou said, sneaking a warning glance up at him—it only served as confirmation of his suspicion.

"Then you will stay here with her, Tenzou. After you escort me to the front door, you will return to her side and not leave it until I return from meeting with them. I shouldn't be long I hope," Kakashi said, straightening his clothing and stretching briefly.

Outside four solemn faced men that he'd never seen in his life awaited him, their horses tied up at his gate—the fifth horse he'd heard was tied by a lead to one of the other four. Kakashi's guard, already raised, rankled at his skin as he walked across the small front yard to meet them. They were obviously here for someone, and Kakashi prayed to the gods that it wasn't for Sakura, that his terrible words days before hadn't somehow made their way to those who should never hear such things.

"Hatake Kakashi?" one man said, stepping towards him so that they met halfway between the fence and the house. The man, obviously an official of some sort—and higher ranking that Kakashi himself—slowly looked him up and down as though searching him for some hidden flaw.

"Yes?" Kakashi realized a little belatedly that his hair was mussed from when Sakura had combed her fingers through it, and that his clothes—a comfortable yukata because he had no plans on seeing anyone important enough to dress up for today—were not impeccably pressed or freshly-donned. The silence following his simple query stretched uncomfortably before one of the men cleared his throat.

"Are you willing to accompany me to Sarutobi-sama's estate," at some sort of signal the three remaining men also strode forward and vaguely surrounded him. Kakashi frowned, glancing around at them—did they think he was going to cause trouble? "Or must I report your forcible detainment? Surely you wouldn't wish for your family to have such a black mark on its public records, Hatake-san."

"Why is this so urgent that four riders were sent out by Sarutobi-sama?"

"This isn't business conducted by Sarutobi-sama, Hatake-san, this is the business of Shogun Ietsuna. You're needed for questioning regarding the Uchiwa traitors, and you've also been implicated as one such traitor yourself. Again, you can come with us willingly or not—but think of your family before you choose. Your wife, your kids must be inside—they'll hear us if you kick up a fuss. It would be…a… shame if they were to come outside and become involved in our business."

* * *

 

They allowed him to hurriedly change into attire he could ride in, sending two men around to the back so that he wouldn't try to run. He worried that Tenzou and Sakura were still outside but felt relief crash into him when he saw Tenzou kneeling just outside of his room, while Sakura waited for him inside it. Both of them were silent, waiting for illumination or instructions, he was too shaken to decipher which.

"Sakura," he extended a hand out towards her, "I need my…" he closed his eye, trying to remember the damn word he needed. The Uchiwa  traitors —had they been plotting against the shogun? Had their perverse religion been found out? As he had feared, their problems had dragged him into their business—"my hakama." Sakura quickly had the garment for him, turning to get the rest of his formal outfit while he took off his yukata behind the screen.

"Don't let them see you, Sakura, I don't know if they'd care or not but…stay inside," words, let alone complete sentences were hard, but Kakashi forced himself to manage as he dressed as quickly as he could. Keep Sakura safe no matter what repeated endlessly in his mind. If he had to lie through his teeth about her, he would just have to do that and hope she either never heard of his words or forgave him for them.

He came out from behind the screen still straightening his clothing—he probably looked a mess—and almost ran into Sakura. The girl tucked herself against him, her head resting briefly on his chest before she lifted it up so as to look him in the eye. He cupped her cheek, feeling bile creep up in his chest towards his throat as his worry turned ugly.

"Sakura I…" he trailed off because she already knew anything he might want or try to say. The specter of proving his innocence to the Shogun's investigators leaned heavily on his mind. They would surely come for his family if they chose to arrest him. Would he see her ever again if he failed?

"Kakashi," her hand cupped his cheek, mirroring him, " I love you , come back soon. Be safe," her words were followed by a beat of silence as Kakashi processed them. And then suddenly Kakashi didn't care that Tenzou was not ten feet away from them or that four men awaited his return outside. He was scared yes, but his wife loved him, and so he bent down to kiss her, tilting her face upwards to make it easier. It wasn't a short, soft kiss, it was a hard, aggressive  long kiss. He kissed Sakura possessively, pressing his tongue against hers, taking her lower lip between his teeth, pulling away to change the angle he slanted his lips against hers at, and a spike of pleasure rocked him when he earned a soft moan from her—Kakashi wanted her to look and feel as thoroughly kissed as possible. If this were the last time he could kiss her, he wanted it to be something which turned her world on its head.

"And I love  you ; now stay here, in this house, until I come home, no matter how long that is. Understood?" he spoke against her lips, reluctant to part from her. He only tore himself away when Sakura nodded hesitantly, drawing breath to speak. Kakashi was out of the room by the time she put together a word, and he was almost out of the house when he heard her call out his name.

* * *

 

The Uchiwa had been taken to the Sarutobi estate, as it was the closest place which could accommodate becoming a kind of jail as well as allowing their captors to clear out the Uchiwa mainhouse for a full search and inspection—without the troublesome presence of the current-soon-to-be-former-occupants. The Sarutobi estate was also quite close to the Uchiwa land. The interrogators made themselves known at that point, as they didn't have business with the artifacts of the Uchiwa church but with the people of the Uchiwa family and employ. The investigators stayed at the Uchiwa estate for the most part with a few guards, the rest accompanying the family.

Among the interrogators was one of the men who had been present the night Itachi had betrayed his clan. Their eyes met across the room and they each nodded minutely to one another. They each did what they had to in order to sleep at night, regardless of what that action was. Itachi understood the official and that man understood him. He was glad that the person in charge of his family's capture was one who knew the tale firsthand, as the man would perhaps spare some of Itachi's youngest relatives.

Itachi himself was still being kept with the women and children, far away from the men who might try to rally against their captors if their family head was present. He wanted to say that his presence among them would be of no harm, he would not condone such actions and that his family would listen to him—but Itachi felt that might disrupt his calm, to openly admit that he was at fault for having the family rounded up as they had been. That he was at fault for the deaths of earlier in the morning, as well as all of their eventual deaths by execution. Those few men who had initially resisted capture and had been killed were lucky, lucky like Uchiwa Mikoto had been.

He was about to close his eyes to give himself over to prayer once more when he caught a flash of white hair out of the corner of his eye. Turning to look properly he was stunned to see not an old grandfather being led into one of the family-turned-interrogation-rooms, but Hatake Kakashi with his hands bound in front of him as he was flanked by guards. Itachi tried to stand, to get across the room—they were bringing in people he hadn't implicated, this was all  wrong —but one of his own guards clapped a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back to the floor.

Across the room the man from that night in Edo glanced up at the commotion. Itachi had stated again and again he would go quietly, and perhaps it was enough that he'd even tried to stand—he had the man's attention now. Itachi stared him down as he dealt with whatever underling he'd been speaking to before quickly crossing to Itachi. All the young Uchiwa could think of was Hatake Kakashi—he had been Obito's best friend, one of the only friends outside of the family that Obito, Shisui or even Itachi had had. Itachi had tried to emulate everything he had ever heard of or seen Kakashi doing, ever since he had come to Fujimi as a boy. Was it because of those close ties to the family that Kakashi was being brought in? Itachi's heart clenched at the thought of hurting a non-believer—this was only supposed to have been to cut away his own family's influence and arrogance, not injure bystanders.

"I'd like to speak with him alone," Itachi looked up into the face of the head interrogator as the man spoke with Itachi's guard, "bring him for me." There was no mistaking who he was talking about, Itachi was the only grown man in the group he was being kept with.

"Why the sudden change in demeanor, Uchiwa-san?" Itachi had had no time to even sit down before the questions started.

"I saw some of your men bringing in Hatake Kakashi—the man with the white hair—and I was surprised. I agreed to provide every name that you and your team would need, in exchange for a trip to Fujimi before the arrests. His name is nowhere on that list." For the first time that day Morino looked embarrassed. For what, Itachi couldn't even begin to guess—had the Shogunate double crossed him?

"One of my men can be a bit overeager sometimes, I'm sure he just wanted to interview this Hatake-san about your family."

"Then why," Itachi's voice turned cold, "was he bound like a criminal when I saw him?" Anger flashed across Morino's face, although to whom it was directed was unclear. He stood quickly and left, shutting the shoji in Itachi's face, leaving him in darkness. With nothing better to do, Itachi bent his head and murmured his prayers softly. He also reflected on his family relationships—Fugaku was almost a father to him, while Obito and Shisui had been his elder brothers. Kakashi had been something between a fun uncle and a close cousin—there was always a laugh lurking in Kakashi's face somehow, although most would be hard pressed to notice it.

His appearance had been so strange, so changed. Itachi hadn't seen him since shortly after Obito's funeral. Kakashi had been haggard then, trying to get his planting in as well as care for his ailing father—but he had looked as he always had, a full head of strikingly black hair laced with not even a dozen silver hairs indicating his approaching middle age. Today had been shocking, seeing the stark white hair on top of a head with Kakashi's face on it.

* * *

 

Kakashi had had to ride with his hands bound, allowed to hold the reins tenuously between a few fingers while his horse had remained tied on a lead to one of the others. His three guards had been anything but ginger when they had helped him down, while the official just looked at him as though he were scum. Just what had the Uchiwa  done ?

Sarutobi-sama's mainhouse, normally welcoming and almost cheery, looked anything but in the harsh afternoon autumn sunlight. The house was deathly silent except for the sound of women weeping somewhere, and the strange sounding prayers that the Uchiwa used. He didn't dare look up or around as his captors—because they were definitely not escorts or even guards—led him through the house. Kakashi didn't want to see the faces of those who he'd grown up with, his family if not by blood then by time spent. He was so focused on not looking that when they came to a stop it was a bit of a surprise.

"This is Hatake-san," the official at his elbow piped up to the man in front of them. His smile was anything but comforting, despite how nicely it lit his face. Kakashi suddenly wanted to be questioned by any man other than this one. This man was one who would get anything out of anyone—there was no way Kakashi was going to be able to convince him of his innocence.

"Ah, Hatake Kakashi, I have heard a lot about you over the last day or so. I believe you and I have a lot to talk about." That simple, ominous statement unglued Kakashi's tongue, immobile since he'd fled the house, from Sakura—terror had glued it, but indignant anger loosed it.

"I can only wonder at what, my lord, when I've been nearly kidnapped from my own home to see you." The appraising glance he earned for his trouble made his bitter tone worth it—he wasn't in a position to speak bitterly, but Kakashi was certain this man didn't care if his captive was bitter, pleased, dead, or alive. It didn't matter to him if Kakashi were to be troublesome or helpful, it just didn't matter. A second glance, directed at those to Kakashi's sides, had Kakashi being propelled after his interrogator into one of the more private rooms away from the opened middle of the house filled with crying women and distraught men.

There he was forced to kneel while across from him the other man gracefully sat down, his legs comfortably crossed and nested so he could rest his elbows on his knees. Kakashi sat in resolute silence, watching as an inkstone was brought out from a small chest, followed by a soft request for a little water for ink. The disturbing smile flashed across the man's face momentarily whenever he met Kakashi's gaze. Once he had made his ink and prepared his paper and brushes he shifted to sit a bit straighter, his entire air jovial—as though this were normal.

"Now, you don't need to know my name—frankly under these circumstances you wouldn't even see my face, but you  are a samurai and a local hero at that, so I am affording you the courtesy of your…" when he smiled Kakashi fought against recoiling against the predatory gleam of it, "relative comfort at the moment. I do, however, require that you repay my generosity with a little honesty. Can we agree on that, Hatake-san?" The interrogator didn't wait for his agreement.

"I am using your records as they were updated over the summer, so please bear with me while I do some corrections. Your age is listed here as…thirty. Is this correct?" Those eyes stared across the gap between them, expectant and waiting—Kakashi briefly considered refusing to answer, but then Sakura and her beautiful pink hair swept into his mind. He had to somehow— somehow— get through this for Sakura.

"Thirty one, I turned thirty one a few weeks ago." A slimily happy look crossed the other man's face at Kakashi's easy compliance. He, meanwhile, focused on Sakura and kept her at the forefront of his mind as a talisman, or a balm, on his angry pride.

"You have been granted two hundred koku it says here, is this unchanged?"

"It is unchanged," his answer was followed by his companion quickly noting down both his age and his amount of land.

"Hmm," there was a shuffling of paper as he pawed through Kakashi's records, as though searching for something seen earlier, "it seems as though you got married in the spring Hatake-san! I offer you my congratulations, I'm sure she is a lovely lady despite the rumors I heard yesterday in town." Kakashi felt his heart stop as those words dripped effortlessly from the interrogator's mouth. He wasn't here because of the Uchiwa at all, he was here because of Sakura somehow—that was why he had been told so little, it was to keep him from telling Sakura and Tenzou to flee the house after he was taken. Opening both of his eyes, Kakashi looked up into the other man's face—the bastard was still awaiting Kakashi's answer, a smile playing on his lips.

"Sakura is an excellent wife, I do not pretend to know what you have heard about her though. We live far from town and rarely visit there."  Play dumb, play dumb, play dumb.

"Oh I'm simply talking about the fact that the people of Fujimi seem to think that you've married an  oni girl. You can imagine my surprise when I learned that, although perhaps that is their explanation of her appearance—surely she is not that detestable to look at. But perhaps it is because they don't know of her foreign, kirishitan ancestry that they make up tales about her? Was your marriage arranged by Uchiwa Fugaku to round out his followers?" There was a wicked look in the man's eye now—he  enjoyed toying with people like this. Kakashi sent a quick prayer to the gods that they would protect his wife just a little bit longer, if they were protecting her at all.

"You are incorrect, sir, in your assumption that my wife or I have any business with the Uchiwa other than my association with them as a youth. My wife is from—"

"Iimori, it is listed right here Hatake-san, I can—"

" Iimori-yama , my lord, I must correct you," Kakashi paused both for breath and to see if his bluff was working, "I was traveling to Iimori, which sits in the foothills of Iimori-yama, to meet with a merchant about possibly marrying his daughter. It is a two day journey in winter, but I pressed my luck and continued on after sunset. It was a few hours after dark that I realized I was hopelessly lost, I was freezing, and that I might very well die that night—and that was when I heard screaming." Kakashi hesitated then, his tale erupting from what he hoped was nowhere—or else it was a secret belief that was only coming to light now, and if it was he hated himself for it. But his interrogator was taking the bait.

"Screaming?"

"Yes, a woman screaming. I forced myself towards it, and the closer I got the more I heard other sounds as well—fighting and snarling. I thought a woman had been caught by an animal until I reached the clearing. I could only barely make out their forms, but a group of men were attacking a young woman. At first I put myself between them because I wanted to save the girl, but they mistook me for some other creature and attacked me—I was cold and unprepared for them, the wounds they gave me would have killed me except for Sakura."

"I take it Sakura was the young woman?" Kakashi nodded, his body language uncertain on purpose—as though he were reluctant to talk about the experience.

"Yes…and no. Sakura lost control of her illusion when the smell of my blood went into the air and began fighting against them in her true form, which she hadn't used against them because she hadn't wanted to hurt them. Not until then, when she was fighting the urge to devour me, did she direct her full strength to the fight. She says it was a good distraction."

"How are you al—"

"Alive? I promised her that if she didn't eat me I would protect her, so she healed me on the condition that I marry her, which I did this last spring. She maintains the illusion of a human form to try and make me forget what she is, it's actually quite endearing," for the first time in several minutes Kakashi looked down and away from his now quite captive audience, embarrassed at himself and his words despite a small smile tugging at his face. With a mental shake he gathered his wits once again to finish his explanation.

"But her illusions can only go so far—they can't change the color of her eyes or her hair. I've never lied to the villagers about what she is. It is painfully obvious if you see her, you can ask anyone in town. She likes her human form but she acts quite stiff in it as though she doesn't quite know how to move sometimes." The interrogator squinted his eyes at Kakashi for a long moment, a moment where Kakashi realized that perhaps he had been allowed to spin whatever tale he wanted so long as it wasn't boring.

"You married a demon girl, an oni girl, in return for healing of wounds you sustained trying to save her," hearing the slightest amount of doubt in the man's tone, Kakashi chose to reply caustically, perhaps venting some of his frustration that way would be productive rather than destructive.

" Yes , do they not have demons in the mountains outside of Edo? Is it so hard to believe that here in the North there are demons? Demons  come from the North, we deal with them up here all the time. Some choose to be invisible, some appear as monsters, and one of them has granted me a good life in exchange for saving her own. Is that so hard to understand? You act as though you've never encountered a demon in your life! Or are you too busy hunting down foreigners' ghosts that you've forgotten the creatures which have always been in Japan?"

The offensive tactic had the desired effect—the interrogator believed him. To be sure he gawked like a fish for a few moments, but Kakashi's words in the end held up to whatever mental tests the man had.

"This…this is not what you had written down at your wedding in the spring, Hatake-san, it must be changed to reflect the truth," he started uncertainly, glancing down to his fast-trying ink, at a loss for what to do. Kakashi didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief that he had somehow convinced the man that he'd married a demon—Although Sakura's anger might be quite demonic once she found out what he'd said.

"Of course, I understand. Would you like me to repeat it for you?"

"No, no," the man was still quite flustered at the 'truth' Kakashi had told him, "No, you are quite free to go Hatake-san. Guard! Come in here, see that this man is released," he turned a little to see who came into the room at his command but paled suddenly. "M-Mo-Morino-sama!" The tall man who entered with the guard narrowed his eyes at Kakashi's former tormentor.

"It seems you've chosen to release him yourself, that's good. Tell me, have you ordered the detention of any other Fujimi residents without my explicit permission? –Oh, Hatake-san, you are free to go. You, untie his hands and show him the way out of the house."

His mind whirled faster than he could keep up with, so Kakashi simply put one foot in front of the other—leaving the Sarutobi house, and then the compound, and finally starting to amble his way down the road towards his own home. He didn't shuffle or stumble for the most part, except for when his sandal would catch a rock and nearly trip him, something which happened frequently as he paid little attention to his surroundings. Sakura was safe, although she was going to hate him forever. He had given permission for the records of their marriage to be changed to reflect that she was actually a demon—Kakashi held out little hope that Sakura would understand that particular move on his part. By allowing the change, no official would ever question his wife's appearance again—but that line of reasoning just days ago had nearly driven them apart.

The walk was long, made longer by his own mental anguish. He kept trying to protect Sakura, but it seemed he continued to make a mess of everything by doing so. And he would never send her away, back to Iimori where she had faced so much hate—besides, he now knew she loved him despite his routine idiocy. There was some hope still that she would forgive him a second time for an even worse crime against her.

Because the memory of the 'oni girl,' in Fujimi would fade eventually—just as the exact time that Kakashi's hair turned white was beginning to fade from people's conversations—but as of this afternoon turning to evening, his seventeen year old wife had been labeled a demon, in  writing . The papers, human records of human lives, would be kept for long after even their deaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: Koku if you'll all remember were the way people measured income and stipends back in the day in Edo-period Japan. I believe the original funfact was in another chapter.
> 
> Funfact: Koseki were these awesome family records/registries which the Tokugawa made pretty mandatory between 1600—1850ish. During the Meiji Restoration many of them were destroyed, ordered to be handed over and burned or somesuch, as a way of completely breaking off and away from the old shogunate system. Enough families to qualify using the word 'many,' saved their personal koseki however because it had been the only way for them to track genealogy, wealth, and social networks.
> 
> Births, marriages, deaths, etc were all recorded—The Tokugawa were big fans of documents and paperwork—and it was important to keep track of that stuff even after the Restoration. More koseki survived out in the country than in larger cities, just because it was harder to track down the owners. They got brought back, however, sometime during the 20th century. Yes this is important!
> 
> SubFunfact: Daughters were recorded on the koseki initially, but were struck from a family's records when they married and moved out. Women were only allowed to be listed on one koseki at a time (and only recently did Japanese law change to allow women to have a different surname than their husband or vice-versa), when they got married they got put on their husband's family's koseki. Funtiemz!
> 
> Funfact: In Buddhism at the time it was believed that this world was the one of suffering (Samsara), and was visited a lot during the reincarnation cycle. And basically if your life sucked it was an indicator of the one you'd led before. But if you were a good person through that awful life, your next one would be better. Yes. I'm also glossing over this HUGELY because Buddhism is a very multifaceted religion/faith/practice and there just isn't the time or room to do it proper justice.
> 
> Funfact: The Tokugawa required most everyone in Japan to be at least affiliated with a Buddhist temple, as well as being pretty chill with being affiliated with a Shinto shrine. State-mandated religion for the win!
> 
> Funfact: Tenzou would never be allowed, as he is, to have a proper katana and wakizashi—so Sakumo before he died asked that Tenzou get them.

Kakashi got home as night was falling, guided home by sheer willpower somehow. There was a lamp hung at the gate, a hopeful light in the gathering dark. When he finally made it there he just leaned against one of the posts, his body boneless after what he'd had to endure. The emotional torture he'd been through had caught up to him as he'd walked, numbly tracing his way to the northwest road into Fujimi and then out the southeast road towards his own home. As his fear and terror faded, as the fighting, protective spirit left his veins, he'd thrown up somewhere on the road.

He felt he still might, barely restraining the urge to vomit again—but only a tortured retching sound emerged from him, nothing more.

The Uchiwa, his surrogate family for so much of his life, had been arrested en masse. His close ties with them would have surely implicated him as well, for being part of their deviance—but his only truly damning "tie" to the family had been the one to save him—but he had  lied to a government official. Part of Kakashi was tempted to ask what kind of honor a man such as that could have, one who betrayed family and government alike for the sake of selfishness. But the greater part of him, the part that had decided to put Sakura's wellbeing above all else, felt that whatever his actions had been, they had been necessary.

"Kakashi?" Tenzou was cautiously peering from the doorway, the darkness easily concealing his tense body—he was probably armed, ready to fend off strangers, but using the gloom to disguise it. Months and months ago, during the winter, they had agreed that if Kakashi were ever called away to something dangerous, Tenzou would guard the house and Sakura using Sakumo's katana. Heaving a weary sigh, Kakashi picked the lantern off its hook and slowly made his way across the small front yard towards the house while Tenzou slumped in relief as he quickly stepped to meet Kakashi, grasping one of his shoulders and staring at his face, questions written all over his own, while also taking the lantern from him.

"We are safe, for now. You are safe, Sakura is safe, I am safe, even Pakkun is—"

"Kakashi?" Sakura's shriek was just almost music to his ears, despite the pitch of it, as she followed Tenzou's voice outside and laid eyes on Kakashi. Tenzou had to dodge out of her way as she ran towards them, while Kakashi only barely had time to properly open his arms to embrace her while staying steady on his feet. Pakkun had followed her out of the house and danced a pleased circle around the two of them, his yips and barks almost drowning out Sakura's fiercely hidden sobbing, her face smashed as close to him as possible short of removing clothing. Kakashi idly lamented that his luck lately had been good enough to beat the impossible odds of the last few months, yet seemingly required so many more tears than his streak of bad luck had.

But then slowly Sakura's warmth seeped into his chest, reminding him of the chill of the autumn evening.

"Let's get inside—have you eaten?" They normally were nearly done with their supper at this time of night. He didn't try to disentangle himself from Sakura who was still tightly clutched against him, Kakashi was fairly certain such an expedition would end in failure.

"She's been fussing too badly, and I've been too keyed up to feel hungry—so no," Tenzou piped up. Kakashi snorted but quickly sobered as he lay his cheek against Sakura's head, facing his servant-near-brother.

"Well we should have a meal of some sort. I have to wash, however, so the two of you can work that out."

 

Sakura decided to make rice and soup, there would be no meat because she didn't have any—Tenzou had been tasked with ensuring her safety and so he hadn't gone fishing, he hadn't even left the house. They had sat for most of the afternoon in her room, the one Kakashi had built for her, and each tried not to worry. Sakura fidgeted, picking up her embroidery project before setting it down again and again, and Tenzou had sat near the doorway with a katana at his side, his head bowed in meditation of some sort. She wanted to ask but didn't—Tenzou probably knew how to use the sword, and he wasn't using Kakashi's so there was really no reason to question him. He put it away once Kakashi had disappeared out to the bath house.

Their dinner was quiet, each of them consuming the food because it was good for them rather than any real enjoyment—Sakura herself was hungry, she realized, but her two companions were probably forcing themselves to eat. When Kakashi finished he waited patiently for her to put aside her bowl before standing and helping her to stand as well, leaving Tenzou to clean up after their meal.

Kakashi led the way back to their room, and Sakura saw how shaken he was by his ordeal from how gingerly he walked—as though he might lose his balance if he weren't careful. As he unrolled their futon and changed into the yukata he normally slept in, Sakura knelt and looked for her combs—there was a plain wooden one which he preferred most of the time. Kakashi came up behind her and sat down, stretching his legs out on either side of her rather than sitting properly—sometimes her husband blithely  didn't do things, despite his iron opinion and actions with other traditions and habits.

His hands were steady for the most part as she handed her combs over to him, but she didn't dwell on the slight twitches as she quickly turned around to face away from him. Her own hands reached for her hair pins, removing them with practiced ease. Sakura closed her eyes with a kind of relieved pleasure when she heard Kakashi's appreciative sigh. He adored the color of her hair, the feel of it, and the gentle waves it was in by the end of the day from the bun she'd put it in.

Neither she nor Tenzou were stupid, they'd each known something was terribly wrong when Kakashi had been basically abducted from the house—and it was a relief to go back to their routine. She wouldn't ask him what had happened this afternoon, he'd clearly been through hell. That he was there was enough.

It was calming to have him gently handle her hair, smoothly pulling the comb from the crown of her head to the very end of each strand. She tilted her head back, enjoying how the teeth of the comb occasionally scraped against her scalp, the stretch of the skin on her throat, and Kakashi's relative warmth at her back. She loved it when he did this, getting out the tangles of the day from her hair. She loved  him . She had been embarrassed to admit it, self-conscious at the thought—only a week ago, even—that he might not love her. The anxiety of earlier in the day had forced the words out of her at the thought that their family might get in trouble, and that if they  were in trouble he should know that she loved him.

Once he finished combing her hair he swept it all over one of her shoulders before leaning forward to rest his head on the exposed one. A faint clatter followed shortly after as he set the comb aside, putting both of his arms around her waist as he let himself rest against her back. Sakura could feel his breath on her shoulder blade through her yukata.

"Sakura, I lied to them about you, I did it tokeep you safe. Please forgive me," his words were low, spoken into her shoulder softly.

"What would they have done to us if you'd told the truth?" she turned her eyes down, following her hands as they covered his forearms wrapped around her middle. It was nice being held like this.

"I don't know, arrested us, killed us—nothing good."

"Then I forgive you for whatever you said." She sought out one of his hands, bringing it up to lay against her heart leaving it sandwiched between her yukata and her own hand. It felt strange laying there so near to her chest but Sakura ignored her nervousness. She wanted him to hold her close and for him to kiss her as though nothing bad would happen to them—tell her through touch that nothing was wrong. So when he shifted around and shifted her with him so that she was cradled in his arms, curled against him, Sakura easily moved with him. A tic of his smile showed at the corner of his mouth despite his generally somber mood, and a shy grin of her own answered him.

"I don't deserve it, you know I don't."

"Well I'm not forgiving everything you did today, Kakashi. You ran away from me after I told you…" her steam ran out and a blush heated her cheeks. It was difficult to articulate what she felt for him with a simple phrase, to be so blatant about it.

"That you loved me," his shy, boyish smile made itself known as he clearly savored what she had admitted to him, "and you don't know how much that strengthened me today Sakura," he said as he closed the distance between them with a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes and just enjoyed it, she didn't need to overthink things. His fingers threaded into her hair, gently tilting her head so he could kiss her lips. Sakura reached up, pulling him closer with a hand at the back of his neck. It used to be intimidating when he pulled her so tightly close to him, but she was getting used to it.

It was also frustrating. Kakashi obviously wanted her, but he limited himself severely—moments like these seemed to be the extent of what he allowed himself to have. But after today Sakura decided they would have no more walls between them, that his cautiousness had to end. She wanted him to make love to her, take her to bed as his wife—this afternoon brought into stark clarity that no one had as much time as they'd like with the ones they loved and that Sakura wanted much more from Kakashi than he had so far given her.

So she trailed her fingers down his neck and hooked her fingertips under the collar of his yukata, pulling slightly. Sakura had no idea what she should do to seduce him into sleeping with her, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying—hopefully Kakashi would get the hint before she embarrassed either of them. So until he did get that hint she decided to just do little things to get his attention—stroking the skin her hand had encountered, leaning back in his arms so he had to follow after her to continue kissing her, or pressing close to him on an aggressive whim. She took the time to notice the things she normally overlooked. His lips were soft, while his cheeks had a tracing of day-end stubble which made her stomach clench whenever his cheek brushed her own. It was a good feeling.

It was an even better one when Kakashi sighed happily into one of their kisses before turning her head slightly up and away so that he could kiss her neck. The ticklish scratch of his stubble was an odd contrast to the tight, warm feeling that was building in her middle—and then there were the sliding, open mouthed kisses he was raining down on her throat, occasionally nipping at the skin. Sakura moaned just a little which had him inhaling sharply and returning to her lips. This kiss was softer, gradually lessening the intensity between them and eventually leaving their lips merely touching, their foreheads leaning together.

"Sakura, I know that after the day we've both had that this is probably the last thing that should be on my mind, but," his hand at the back of her neck urged her closer for a proper kiss, "I would like very much to have you as my wife tonight." That tight, warm feeling coiled tighter with a jolt at his words.

"I…I would like that as well, Kakashi." Her heart was racing, it was terrifying to talk about this yet so very necessary for both of them. She was aware of every place they touched, from his hands—one at the back of her neck, the fingers curled in her hair, and the other resting warmly on her hip—as well as his legs underneath her, where her own hands landed in his hair and on his chest, and then their faces just inches apart before he kissed her again.

 

When Tenzou came into the cooking area he found it was cold and dark, the banked fire glowing ominously in the gloom, and Sakura was nowhere to be seen. She and Kakashi must have been sleeping late and Tenzou couldn't say he blamed them. Sakura had worried herself near to the point of tears for most of the day yesterday, and Kakashi hadn't been so rattled in years. He set about making breakfast, not really out of obligation but because he was hungry. Pakkun, who had doddered in behind him sleepily, whined at Sakura's absence before settling down next to where she normally sat.

Tenzou smirked at the dog—he wondered sometimes which doted on Sakura more, her husband or her dog because it seemed to be a close race most days. The sliding hush of the shoji drew his attention and faded his smile—apparently Kakashi was up and was letting Sakura sleep. Sakura almost always woke up and set to making breakfast, whereas Kakashi would go to the bath house and shave after he woke up. It was right then, from the hallway, that Tenzou overheard a conversation he knew he would never un-hear.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Tenzou froze at Kakashi's earnest tone, kept soft but not soft enough.

"Yes, I'm fine, Kakashi—I agreed last night didn't I? I knew it would ache today, it just aches quite a bit more than I thought it would. I'll be okay, I promise." Sakura's voice was a little louder, confident and almost slightly annoyed.

"But I—"

"I need to get dressed properly and start breakfast, Tenzou will be awake soon and I don't like making him take on my chores. You can unbank the fire for me if you have it in your head you need to do penance."

Tenzou sat stock still in the several moments between Sakura's words and when Kakashi walked into the room as though nothing was wrong. Kakashi was nearly settled across the fire from him when Tenzou's tongue got the better of him. He couldn't help himself, he had to know.

"But you what, Kakashi?" his piercing black eye flicked up to stare Tenzou down. Tenzou knew Kakashi was asking for an elaboration but there was no way this side of paradise or hell that he would do so. He didn't have to return that stare for much longer before his companion sighed in defeat.

"I got caught up in Sakura's charms last night, and I worry that I was rough with her. She insists otherwise." Tenzou stayed silent, continuing to stare his master down. Sakura was sweet and innocent, and had become like an annoying little half-sister to him as much as he hated to admit it. He'd never gotten to play the older brother with his  real half-sister, he hadn't even gotten to look at let alone glare at the man she'd married. Kakashi seemed to catch the drift of his thoughts, however.

"Tenzou, I didn't force her. I would never do that to her, or hurt her on purpose and without caring—but the first...," he looked away, having the decency to let a rare blush color his cheeks, "will always be painful, and I don't know if I did enough to lessen that pain. That's the long and short of it, believe of me what you will." Tenzou reigned back the urge to continue on into an argument about something which was truly none of his own business. He cleared his throat and pointedly returned to cooking.

When Sakura later joined them her smiles were bright—Tenzou watched her like a hawk—although she blushed slightly when she would glance at Kakashi. He decided to relax, settling on the notion that Pakkun would've bitten Kakashi by now if he'd done something to Sakura. It comforted him greatly because Kakashi was a good man, but that didn't mean he had no breaking point. Tenzou had been worried that Kakashi had reached his breaking point yesterday, only to hear that…he put the thoughts out of his mind.

There were chores to do this morning, and the next. In a several weeks Kakashi and Sakura would likely travel into the mountains farther north, going to Iimori to visit Sakura's parents, but before that the last of the winter vegetables would be harvested. There just wasn't time to worry deeply about a marriage that was thankfully not his own.

But that didn't mean he failed to notice the next few nights when Sakura let Kakashi whisk her away rather than staying to clean up after their supper. Or the mornings they would occasionally sleep a little bit later. Tenzou started to pray less that the gods protect Sakura and more that they would do two things for him; the first being that he never overhear anything that he would spend the rest of his life purging from memory, and the second being that Kakashi never decided to share any details—because while Kakashi was normally quite quiet, when he had something on his mind that he thought he needed to share…he  shared it.

And, on the occasion where they were a little  too obvious about their after-dinner plans, Tenzou would pray that Pakkun chose that night to come crashing through the shoji in either curiosity or vengeance against his rival for Sakura's affections.

* * *

 

Hiruzen had a lot on his mind recently. He and his family had had brief but intense suspicion cast on them just weeks ago—the Uchiwa family had been rounded up as traitors to the state. His great friend and near equal Uchiwa Fugaku had been arrested and beaten in Hiruzen's own home. It had been a terrifying week where the Uchiwa family was kept at the Sarutobi estate before they were loaded into wagons and taken to Edo. From there they would likely be taken on to Nagasaki. But the trauma was slowly fading and Hiruzen had other things to look to.

Such as the redistribution of koku from the disbandment of the Uchiwa family, estate, and lands. The house and its attached support buildings were destroyed for the most part, the inspectors and investigators deeming the estate too riddled with kirishitan meaning to be allowed to stand. So Hiruzen needn't worry about who to place in the house. But that still left the land, and the land-stipends, to be dealt with. Maps of the local area, marked down with precise measurements and labeled with family names, littered his study while he dug out more than two dozen koseki records on local samurai families who might benefit from a change in their incomes.

He already had a favorite by a long-shot, one who he was planning on giving as much as he could to. Hatake Kakashi had been kicked around by life so much that sometimes Hiruzen wondered what the man had done in his last life that merited such a terrible time of it. Hiruzen knew that what had happened to the Uchiwa had also been deserved, and that what he was trying to do was also something Kakashi deserved. It was an easy task, but the part of it that was giving Hiruzen a terrible headache was trying to figure out how to expand Kakashi's land without moving Kakashi around. Because he knew that no power short of the shogun would get Kakashi to uproot from his family holdings, no matter how small those holdings were or how great the temptation to move was.

* * *

 

Tenzou appreciated the silence in the house far more than he would have predicted after Kakashi and Sakura left for a two-week visit to Iimori. He wasn't sleeping on eggshells as it were, hoping to never overhear something he'd be traumatized by, for one. And also it gave him the rare time to fantasize about having his own home such as this—of that world where his horrible father recognized him as his rightful heir and then promptly died, leaving Tenzou everything. Tenzou knew it was uncharitable and terrible of him, but he hated his father. Orochimaru had seduced Tenzou's mother, left her when she fell pregnant, and hadn't even bothered to raise the son she'd given him. At least initially.

That was what bothered Tenzou the most about his only living parent—his mother had given his father a  son , and still Orochimaru had only brought him to his house in Kyoto when Tenzou was  five . Even then Orochimaru had done it out of paranoia and begrudging obligation, not affection or pride. He sometimes had half-remembered dreams of that place in Kyoto where his status was in a dangerous swing between the master's honored son and something less than common trash, and even more dimly did he remember the dark, small rooms his mother's former maids had raised him in while he'd lived at the imperial palace. Fujimi and its terribly gossipy villagers and estate servants was miles better than the places he'd lived as a child.

He also dearly loved living so far away from said town. Here he was free to practice his swordsmanship and other habits that he should have always been afforded—when he could snatch the time, of course.

The morning after Kakashi and Sakura left he got up early—to savor the silence longer—and made himself a simple meal. It was as he finished it and put the dishes away that someone knocked on the shoji leading from the garden. Tenzou's eyebrows scrunched together for half a second, wondering who it was, before he stood and slid open the door to reveal Asuma.

"So, Tenzou, Kakashi's not here to embarrass you, Sakura's not here to stare at you for knowing your way around a sword, and Kurenai is sleeping late today. How about it?"

They hadn't sparred for months and months—Sakura's addition to the Hatake family had both Asuma and Kakashi tightening belts and following the rules a little more closely, and Tenzou had allowed it because he hadn't yet known Sakura and whether or not she gossiped. He didn't need or want the rest of the local area to know that Sakumo had trained him as a samurai and had even bequeathed his katana and wakizashi to him. Besides, he felt he could take up practicing once more—Sakura hadn't asked at the time, but he had seen her staring at how easily he had armed himself a month ago in preparation to possibly defend her.

The first few spars were short and light, allowing Tenzou to get back into the swing of things. The weight of the bokken grew familiar to his grip and to his arms once more, and although he was already starting to feel his muscles screaming in fatigue he continued—he needed to practice and he had to start somewhere. It was made easier because it was more fun to fight Asuma than it was to fight Kakashi—Asuma flowed in and out of fighting stances, his bearing elegant and unreadable. Kakashi was a brash fighter with big, showy moves which were also terrifyingly fast—Kakashi moved like lightning, there one second, gone the next. His moves were unreadable simply because he moved too quick to get a read on what he was doing.

But Tenzou fought more like Asuma, so they were more evenly matched—Sakumo had been teacher to them both at some point. When Tenzou parried left to counter a strike by Asuma, the other man was already taking a smooth step backwards using that momentum as well as Tenzou's own strike to bring his weapon swinging around for another chance. But Tenzou's blade would follow a curve around, coming up almost from the ground to block Asuma once again. Whereas fighting Kakashi usually left the opponent bruised all over, fighting Asuma was a dance, swinging from one end of the slight grassy area near the fence to almost tramping around on the roughly tilled earth of the dry rice paddy.

Asuma held back on purpose and while it was embarrassing, Tenzou was also glad that he wouldn't be limping around for the next two days—which was another reason he rarely fought Kakashi in the past. Training with him was akin to masochism, because Kakashi tended to go all-out and push both himself and his opponent to be better, to be faster. If even one step was given up or away, Kakashi pounced. Asuma meanwhile gave Tenzou all the steps he needed, knowing that it had been coming on a year since Tenzou had picked up a weapon, even a training one, in seriousness.

Their breaths puffed white in the cold morning air—autumn was nearing its end and winter was fast approaching—and Tenzou for one felt a glorious rush go through him whenever he sucked in another breath of that cold air. It was a wonderful contrast to the heat of his hand on the hilt of the bokken, the slight warmth of his clothing, and reminded him of his toes safely (and warmly) ensconced in the boots bought last winter.

They parted ways after just over an hour, and Tenzou went about the rest of his day with his muscles languid and heavy from the workout—and he was glad to stretch out on his futon that night, arching his back just  so in order to pop a few stubborn knots in his spine. Pakkun, who hadn't known what to do with himself since Kakashi and Sakura had left the previous morning, whuffled his way next to Tenzou—ending up suctioned to his side while occasionally sighing. Tenzou regarded the brown dog—which truly should have been bigger by now, Pakkun was most definitely the runt of the litter—with a little bit of suspicion, normally he would have been growled at or bitten by now.

The dog of course didn't ever mean anything by how he bit, it was just that Tenzou didn't appreciate that Pakkun acted that way at all. Especially when it was only towards himself. However, in the dim light Pakkun's brown eyes were just watery and sad and Tenzou had to relent in the face of the nearly-grown dog's misery.

* * *

 

Hiruzen could feel his hope fading. There  was a way to increase Kakashi's holdings during the spring—enough to allow the man some extra income to support a hopefully growing family. But there was no excuse he had at his disposal for doing so—there was the fact that Kakashi had been injured greatly during the rebellion nearly two years ago, but any increase in his land should have been taken care of then. Hiruzen mulled over the possibilities that that explanation would pass muster.

It wasn't as though his reasons would be checked over too thoroughly, but he was on eggshells since the Uchiwa arrests. An entire branch of their family had managed to live for years unnoticed in his district, and he had even been friends with many of those living near him. Only by some miracle had they decided not to round up his family as well just for close association—Hiruzen still wondered, weeks later, at the fact that they had spared him.

His study was littered with the paperwork he had dug up and referenced endlessly in his ultimately useless quest. Family records, tax records, land grantings, land confiscations—traditional family alliances, records of family scandals, everything that tied into what samurai was awarded what land and how much he was to get for that land.

Hiruzen's quiet moping was broken for the day as a servant tapped hesitantly at the shoji, which had been shut for most of the morning.

"Enter," he called softly, trying to tear his mind from the predicament of Kakashi. He owed Kakashi's father  so much and since Sakumo was dead, he had to repay the man's son instead. The pale worry etched across the servant's face was quite enough to drag Hiruzen's mind into the present. He nodded to the young man, asking him to speak his piece.

"A man was found this morning on the southern road, they've only just now brought him here instead of leaving him in town at the inn." Hiruzen glanced sharply over to the servant—this was most unnatural.

"Why was he not left at the inn?"

"They say that since the business with the Uchiwa they don't want any more strange out-of-towners. The interrogators apparently stayed one night there and questioned the entire staff before daybreak. Besides, he has no identification, letters, or money, and they are afraid he is in trouble with the law."

He mulled over these statements—there was nothing in them to suggest he was anything other than a traveler who had miscalculated weather, or had been robbed…or perhaps was even a monk on pilgrimage.

"They also said he'd been stabbed, though if he gets treatment he will likely live." Hiruzen couldn't remember where he'd heard it, but Kakashi's wife had a good hand with healing—and if she healed this unfortunate traveler, he would have to recover in Fujimi for the winter, and the extra burden on the Hatake household would merit…Yes.

"We cannot keep him here, he has far too unknown of a past to be near the clan—we were all nearly arrested based upon a single friendship, I cannot put so many at risk for just one man. However, I think that the Hatake can care for him." It was his servant's turn to glance sharply, but he ignored the impertinence. He would send an advance amount of money along with the injured man—Knowing Kakashi, the family would have budgeted tightly for the winter to make it to spring, and there was no way such a budget could include another grown man's needs of food and clothing.

Kakashi wasn't even in town to refuse—only Tenzou was at home, with Hiruzen's nephew Asuma nearby. He felt a slight pang in his heart at the thought of Tenzou, who had been denied so much in life. There had been little Hiruzen could do for the young man, more than a decade ago now, other than send him to live far away from town with Sakumo and Kakashi. If Hiruzen had had his way, he would have declared Tenzou his heir instead of forcing his reluctant son Iruka into the position of daimyo. Umino Iruka was Hiruzen's son just as Tenzou was Orochimaru-dono's son—and in the same manner.

Save for the fact that the Sarutobi clan had a great deal more honor than the Hebi clan—or at least  honesty . He had no other sons than Iruka, the child born to him on his fortieth birthday. While his wife had declined for years to acknowledge the boy, Hiruzen had doted on him. Tenzou was about the same age, too—and since Iruka and his wife lived full-time in Edo, he made every excuse to see Tenzou whenever he saw the chance. And this poor unfortunate soul who had been rejected by the town was the perfect opportunity to take the time to speak with Tenzou without having the titles of village lord and family servant between them.

* * *

 

Tenzou and Asuma were drinking tea when they heard the shouts of the daimyo's litterbearers on the road. It was midmorning, which meant that Sarutobi-sama must have set out from his estate early in the morning in order to make it out to the Hatake land. Asuma had scowled as he heard the yelling of the Sarutobi servants—he disliked his great-uncle and Tenzou knew he made no excuses for it. Sarutobi-sama was of too soft a heart in his old age to properly punish his nephew save for ensuring Asuma's continued dependence  on and loyalty  to the family.

So it was no surprise to Tenzou that his companion quickly escaped the house long before Sarutobi-sama's retainer announced himself and his lord. He straightened his clothing as best he could before opening the front door to allow the visitors in. He quickly knelt in deference to his betters, the movements as well-practiced as should be expected of a man who had been a servant since he was twelve.

"I'm sorry to report that my master and his lady are not at home, they are not to return for another week," he quickly said in a loud enough voice to carry across the small courtyard, his head bowed. He waited for a response then, a customary apology for bothering the household before farewells were exchanged between the servants on behalf of their masters. But no reply came save for a few awkward shuffles as well as a quick, muttered argument before Sarutobi-sama's voice cut through the noise.

"I am Sarutobi Hiruzen, third daimyo of Fujimi and I will do as I please in my own district. All of you, including my high ranking retainers, would do well to remember this. Now, I am under the impression that the head servant of the Hatake household is left with the power to make decisions for the family in absence of its master. Is this correct?"

Tenzou pressed his face nearer to the ground before rising minutely to speak.

"This is correct, Sarutobi-sama."

"Excellent, now I require a comfortable place to sit and tea—the road was quite dusty. The servant's quarters should also be prepared for a guest if this is amenable to the household, as I will be leaving someone in the care of the Hatake for the time being."

"Of course, Sarutobi-sama, please make yourself comfortable inside. The household is honored by your visit."

Tenzou lifted himself from his bow to lead Sarutobi into the house, gradually straightening his back a little at a time as he closed the shoji behind the daimyo, leaving the retainers and servants outside in the brisk air. He didn't stand straight as he normally did around Kakashi and (once again) Asuma, but he didn't halfway crouch as he ought to have been.

He warmed the water once again for tea before turning his attention to laying out the second futon kept in his room, quickly setting it up properly for a guest of standing with the daimyo. Sarutobi was sitting relaxed near the fire when he returned, apparently waiting for Tenzou to serve the tea. Their conversation was proper, however much they dropped many customs between them there was still the chance that they would be overheard.

"Is Asuma's swordsmanship still worthy these days?" A question asking if Tenzou was practicing with the Sarutobi clansman—it wasn't often that they played this game anymore, but it was Sarutobi's way of checking in on his daughter-in-law's brother.

"Indeed it is."

"Good. Now, there is a small matter I wish the Hatake to take care of for me—namely overseeing the recovery of an unfortunate man found outside of Fujimi yesterday. His wounds have been patched although he remains unconscious, but the estate of the daimyo is in such disarray after…the unpleasantness…of last month that there is no one to properly care for him. This household is, however, small enough that he won't be overlooked even in the busiest of times. There will be an increase in koku assigned to the family in the spring due to his presence here—as well as the funds needed to feed another grown man over the winter. Will the household agree to this?"

Tenzou quietly thought it over, seeing through the plans easily enough. Sarutobi was atoning for the poor reward Kakashi had been given after his bravery and personal losses two years before—care for a sick traveler over the winter in return for greater financial freedom in the coming year? Tenzou could make that deal.

"It does, please allow my master to care for Sarutobi-sama's guest."

"I believe I shall—please pass my thanks on to your master."

And with that Sarutobi quickly excused himself, allowing his servants to carry the unconscious man in on a stretcher. Tenzou quietly directed them to his room—there was no way he would allow such a stranger to take up residence in Sakura's personal room, despite the privacy it would afford the man. He made a thin broth while the Sarutobi servants settled the new guest, coming to sit beside him once they had departed.

He was no more than a boy—maybe a few years older than Sakura, but certainly not as old as Tenzou himself. His face was naturally pale, with average features, while his hair was cropped fairly short near his ears. It fell in short, straight lines. Tenzou was briefly reminded of the Uchiwa, but this young man didn't have the look of one of them—he also chided himself that he needed to see more normal people from day to day. He had brown hair, Kakashi's head was a mop of silver and white, while Sakura's was  pink . And here he was saying this boy looked Uchiwa simply because he had black hair. As though black hair was at all weird in the world they lived in.

Kakashi would no doubt be wary of their new guest, but he'd never say anything about it. There was little one could do to really refuse the request or order of the daimyo, no matter who one was.

Tenzou contemplated asking if they could hide Sakura from the boy, or vice-versa, to make sure he didn't share the news of a pink haired girl living in Fujimi. The flimsy explanation that she was a demon girl wasn't likely to fly very far under heavy scrutiny.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: Back in the day there were three methods of inheritance in Japan. Option 1: Have a son, everything is amazing. Option 2: Have a daughter, convince some dude to marry her + marry into the family, everything is amazing and no one is happy. Option 3: If lacking children, convince dude or dude and his wife to become your adopted children. Sakura's parents originally planned on using Option 2, but then their daughter married out to better prospects. A plus, yes, but distinctly leaving them sans heir-bait.
> 
> Funfact: Kids were supposed to take care of their parents in their old age, and those parents also helped out by taking care of children or cooking and such. That's why it's "so difficult" to raise children (at least in "western" family units) in the 20th and 21st centuries, because grandma and grandpa have been removed from the childrearing equation for the most part. What was once shared between 2-4 people has become the work shared by two people with societal Judging! heaped on parents who bring in additional people to care for kids.
> 
> Funfact: Samurai usually had facial hair when they could grow it. But you are all having to put up with more of my Jedi-handwaving skills here because...because...YOU CAN'T MAKE ME PUT A BEARD ON KAKASHI.
> 
> Funfact: Hokkaido wasn't always called Hokkaido (in fact has gone through a number of names through the centuries), it used to be called Ezochi. And the people who lived there were called the Ezo—and weren't recognized as "real" Japanese people which you know there is strong evidence that yeah, that is the case. 
> 
> Funfact: There's this thing called 'aphasia' and when you have it you can't remember certain things like names or dates, at least tied together anymore. So that's what their delightful guest has. Yes. Not to be confused with amnesia which he also has.
> 
> Funfact: There really was a drought in the year 1655 and it really did have some scary consequences in 1656. 
> 
> Funreminder: Sakura and Kakashi met in chapter 1 in 1656, got married in the spring of 1657, and now it is 1658ish at the moment. 
> 
> Funotherstuff: This isn't the last you've heard of Advisor Gama, although he isn't real in history.

It was often still dark when she woke up, so Sakura couldn't see Kakashi's face when she reached for it. What she usually did was press her palm against his chest or neck and follow his skin up to his jaw, then smooth her hand across his cheek. Kakashi would usually wake up when she did it, at least the first few times he had. She was still getting used to touching him just as he was getting used to touching her. But this morning he only mumbled a little in his sleep, holding her tighter instead of waking.

His cheek was rough, scratchy with stubble and Sakura almost giggled at him for it. Her husband refused to grow a beard, refused to wear his hair like any other samurai, preferring to be generally comfortable than correct. Her initial impressions of him, made more than a year ago, had been so far off base that she almost laughed at them now. He cared a great deal about traditions, rules, laws—but he was willing to bend those every now and then when he wanted to, often to extremes. Kakashi was by no means a rigid man by society's measure—he was, rather, rigid in morals and decisions. He took life as it came to him, judged his course of action depending upon the wind rather than the time of day, and brooked no refusals as he did so.

She liked being married to him, and she decided she was glad that the fates had brought them together as they had. She'd never expected to marry for love, but it was love she'd found with him. She always thanked Sakumo for raising such a man when she tended to the butsudan, for it was surely his guidance that had helped form the man that Kakashi had grown to be.

* * *

 

Tenzou decided to re-sew the young man's wounds himself. He had to know if there was any terrible infection brewing in his new roommate's injuries. It was a terribly messy proposition but his stitches were of better quality and it was for his own mental health—and the patient's, of course. His patient was awake sometimes but stared around himself without any recognition of his surroundings. He never spoke, falling back to sleep easily. He hadn't even whimpered when Tenzou had taken out the stitches initially, and only winced in his sleep when they were reapplied.

He asked Kurenai to check on the man when she could during the day as there were things he had to tend on the farm even as winter truly set in. Those chores couldn't be abandoned and Kurenai was visiting him anyway on account of Asuma also helping out. He pretended not to notice the happy smile she now wore, the furtive glances she sent at Asuma, or the way her hand would just brush her stomach. Tenzou wondered, genuinely, how dense his neighbor was or how incredibly unexcited he was—it was obvious that Kurenai knew she was pregnant and only waiting to tell Asuma the news.

Unless Asuma was truly  that unruffled by the news he would finally have a child. The two had been married for nearly four years now, and because of how exuberant the Sarutobi man normally was, Tenzou doubted Kurenai had mentioned anything. He was quite sure that if Asuma knew he was to be a father, Tenzou would be the very first to hear of it. Their apparent success, however, chastened Tenzou into making a proper visit to the butsudan and praying that Sakura and Kakashi had the same luck.

While Asuma and Kurenai had gone years without children, there was nothing else remarkable about them. They were wholly normal for the Fujimi local society. Kakashi and Sakura, on the other hand…well, they by now had some pretty  strange rumors floating around concerning when and how their children would come about. It was only for their benefit that he prayed—so that the rumors didn't become even  more strange as time went by with no signs of a Hatake heir.

* * *

 

Kakashi woke up early on their last day in Iimori. He kissed Sakura's shoulder before getting up to dress and shave—he wanted to find Masaki and take him aside before either Sakura or Ume distracted him somehow. Or the man in question escaped to his shop in town, because then Kakashi would have to make a major production of finding him and getting him on his own. Something had occurred to him a few months ago, but only now did it really ring true as the right course of action.

Sakura had been Masaki's only child—the only way of securing a male heir was through her, or adoption. But that obviously wasn't something Masaki was interested in these days, because in over a year Kakashi would have thought his father-in-law would have found  someone interested in inheriting the house and business of a wealthy merchant. This left Kakashi more sure of his offer, that it would be perhaps looked favorably upon.

Masaki was warming his hands at the fire when Kakashi made his way into the main living room. He sat across from Ume, whose hair was an even more fiery orange than usual in the light of the cooking fire. Over the past week and a half Kakashi had just about trained both of them out of bowing relentlessly when they spoke to him or addressed him—he came, he continued to insist, as their son-in-law Kakashi not as a landed samurai. But there was still a minute hesitation in both of them as he sat down and made himself comfortable, shaking off the chill of the bath house he'd just come from.

"Masaki, may I have a word with you before you leave for the day?"

"Of course, Kakashi," he said, twitching as he resisted bowing his whole body—the compromise the three of them had reached was a quick bow of the head, which still grated at Kakashi but he was tired of fighting against his two in-laws at that point.

"I hope you're not going to traumatize my father, Kakashi," Sakura said, her voice coming from across the room behind him. Kakashi turned a little, squinting in the darkness, as he smiled at her. She crossed the room quietly, trying to stifle a yawn. It wasn't any earlier today than when they normally got up at home, but they'd been forbidden from getting up early to help with chores—they were visiting, Ume insisted, and wouldn't be forced to work more than she could help it. But this morning was of course the day they were to leave, so it was best to try to cover as much distance as possible—hopefully to get home before dark.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence, and Ume let Sakura help her clean up—for the first time since they'd arrived, perhaps to extend the time spent together with her daughter. Kakashi and Masaki however went outside to move some firewood from the stack near the gate to against the house so it could dry properly in the icy winter air.

"So, you said you'd like a word," Masaki said as he loaded Kakashi's arms up with logs.

"I did indeed," he said around the growing pile he held. Masaki soon finished with him and started to pick up his own pieces. Kakashi decided that was a go-ahead if he was ever going to get one.

"I realize that you hoped Sakura would marry a man that you could adopt to inherit your business and wealth—and carry on both. And I know that I am certainly not that man, as I told you in the spring I have little desire to learn or practice your trade. You said to me once you are not as strong as your own father-in-law was, and I have thought on those words for a long time. I'm not so strong as you are, either. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving Sakura for so long on trips as you do your wife."

"And you are a samurai and I a merchant, let us not forget that Kakashi," Masaki muttered, his eyes resolutely trained forward rather than turned to look at Kakashi as they headed back towards the house.

"I have not, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about—I wanted to bring up what we spoke briefly about in the spring. Sakura has saved enough from our finances this year that we are going to try to start a family soon. We…we  are trying," he swore to himself that he hadn't stuttered over the admission, he  hadn't . Masaki frowned a bit but nodded, dropping first his own logs before starting to unload Kakashi's arms.

"Sakura and I of course will take both of you in when you deem yourselves ready, as we agreed on last time we spoke of this, but your help—once children are about especially—is always welcome in my home. Even if you were to leave everything behind here in Iimori, we have enough saved in money and rice to feed and clothe two more people. And perhaps in the next few years Sarutobi-sama will redistrict the land-holdings and my family will benefit…Sakura has brought such luck upon my head since our marriage that I cannot but hope she will continue to do so."

"So you are encouraging us to move to Fujimi sooner rather than later?"

"Yes—besides, children are supposed to look after their parents once they are old enough to do so. Sakura cannot do much from Fujimi for either of you while you still live here in Iimori. All I ask is you think on it. I'm sure you and Ume would like to see your grandchildren often," Kakashi hinted as the last of the wood was taken from him. Masaki chuckled, but with a wry twist to his face.

"See them often, yes—hear their constant cries in the night as infants? I don't know. I will speak with Ume about it, Kakashi…you are right that it is difficult enough to raise children with the aid of one's parents, I'm sure it would be quite hard on Sakura if she had to run your house as well as care for your children all by herself."

They stood in awkward silence for a few moments then, before Masaki cleared his throat and spoke again. He'd decided on something, and Kakashi kept carefully silent so as not to interrupt.

"I will see about taking on an apprentice soon, in hopes of leaving my business to him soon. And when Sakura gives you reason to hope for a child of your own, you should write to me immediately—both to inform and warn." Genuine pleasure and amusement marked his father-in-law's face then, and Kakashi allowed his own smile to break out in response. He would certainly appreciate Masaki's addition to the house—Tenzou would have someone to commiserate with about Kakashi's behavior, and Sakura would be happy to have her mother and father around once again.

Less than an hour later, he and Sakura started out of town towards home.

It was getting dark as they entered Fujimi, so Kakashi stopped momentarily to get the innkeeper to light their lantern. He had looked strangely at the two of them, but had kept his opinions to himself. Sakura stood at his side and smiled up at him once the flame took properly to the wick. She put her hands safely in the crook of his elbow as they walked out of town towards home. It was very cold outside, but Kakashi was very warm with her tucked against his side as she was.

He was glad to have spoken with Masaki—hopefully he would bring some of his own money to add to the family finances when he moved, but even then Kakashi's words had been true. They could handle feeding two extra mouths now that the debts had been paid, as well as Sakura saving a great deal of their money over the last year. This fall's harvest had been excellent as well, and it was widely agreed in Fujimi that the Hatake rice had been the tastiest of the season. It was hard to believe that Sakura didn't carry a little bit of magic around with her.

They spoke softly in the darkness as they went home—still another hour's walk down the road—of what tricks they might pull on Tenzou. Sakura told him that she was wary of giving Kakashi ideas, apparently she thought that he would prank  her as well if given half a chance. Kakashi had, in his estimation, wisely said he would never do such a thing—Sakura had peered at his face in evident distrust of his word, which was equally wise, if not a little paranoid. But that frog idea was  definitely going to see the light of day come spring.

There was no light hanging on the gate post as they approached the house, but there were a few lights on inside. Tenzou might not have expected them until midday tomorrow, as the weather was turning from generally rainy to generally snowy and they might have had to stop for the night at the ryokan between Iimori and Fujimi.

Kakashi led the way up the steps to the alcove where they both sat to remove their sandals. He got his off first so he picked up both his load and Sakura's and headed inside. The main room was beautifully warm as he stepped inside, and he looked towards the fire where Tenzou was likely making dinner. Tenzou  was making dinner as was expected, yes, but laid out on a futon near the fire was an unconscious man. That was very  un expected.

"Tenzou?" he glanced Kakashi's way briefly before going back to stirring the soup.

"Yes Kakashi?"

"There's a man in my living room." Tenzou's eyes flicked towards him again before giving up on tending the food, focusing on Kakashi instead.

"Yes, there is."

Kakashi sighed deeply and it was only because his arms were still loaded up with gear from the trip that he didn't drag a hand down his face. Tenzou had a reason for this, Tenzou always had a reason to do the things he did. Kakashi trusted that, but that didn't make it less frustrating.

"Is the ofuro hot?" his servant nodded a yes in response. "Then I'm going to put this stuff away, and then Sakura and I are going to wash. And then I'm going to come back in here, and when I do, I am going to need a full explanation of why there's an unconscious man in my living room." He sensed Sakura at his elbow, peering around him as he solidly blocked the doorway.

"Sakura, please go out to the bath house, I'll be there in a little bit."

The bath warmed them both up, but didn't warm Kakashi enough that he was going to let Sakura be around the stranger in the house. So he directed her to go to their room and wait for him there for a little while—he made a note to bring her supper with him, as she would be hungry. Tenzou was lifting their guest up by the shoulders to slip a little broth down his throat when Kakashi came back in. He knelt down and served himself a small bowl of the stuff as well. It wasn't as good as Sakura's, but she had been taught to cook food pleasurable to eat, and Tenzou had been taught to cook food that wouldn't make others sick. Besides, they had both lived just fine on Tenzou's cooking before Sakura came to them, it was almost nostalgic.

"So…" Kakashi started the conversation, choosing to leave his previous questions hanging in the air.

"He was found outside of the village four days ago, the innkeeper wouldn't take him in and sent him to Sarutobi-sama. Sarutobi-sama gave us money to care for him over the winter, and he said he would increase your stipend come spring. Before planting so that you get the full benefit of the gift."

"Has he spoken?"

"No, he's been unconscious for the most part since he got here—he has stab wounds, I wanted you to look at them before they'd healed too much but…he's been healing remarkably fast." Kakashi frowned a little at that. Tenzou had treated his father Sakumo's wounds, and had seen stab wounds before. The brown haired man looked at him steadily, waiting for Kakashi to think it over for a little.

"They seemed strange, Kakashi…as though they were self-inflicted. But he wasn't found with a weapon, and the idea is only based on one of them." Kakashi stared down at the pale face showing just above the blanket, trying to make out if the man were conscious at the moment. The man's illness and obvious loss of blood—else why would he be so very pale?—were why the house had been so warm earlier. But that was the only answer he'd managed to gather. He sighed deeply, rocking backwards onto his heels before standing up. His eyes flicked away from their new guest towards Tenzou.

"At least Sarutobi-sama is giving us the funds to feed another mouth, especially so soon after I informed Sakura's parents they should make arrangements to live with us as soon as they can—we have enough as we are to feed two more, but not three. Where have you been keeping him?" Kakashi suddenly remembered he was bringing soup to his wife, but Tenzou beat him to it. His eyes were on the bowl he held, but his response was still quick.

"He sleeps at night in my room so that I can keep an eye on him, and during the day I bring him out here to be with the fire. Kurenai looks in on him from time to time."

"Good."

The next morning dawned with frost—he didn't even have to get up and go outside with a light to  know how cold it was—and Kakashi found himself very against the idea of even going to the bath house to shave. Sakura was huddled up against him, her face pressed on his chest as well as hidden under the blanket. The warmth trapped between them was wonderful, but the chill on his back reminded Kakashi that they would need to get out more blankets soon if they wanted to be warm in the mornings. In Iimori they'd been piled on, but that was because Iimori was already getting snow—it had been colder there for longer.

Eventually Sakura woke up and talked him into getting up, but that still took some time—they'd walked for the entire day yesterday, he really just wanted to sleep in. But as their room gradually lightened as dawn broke, her words finally took effect. They walked together out to the main room, where Tenzou was already heating water for breakfast. Their guest was laid out once more near the fire, putting up weak hands against Pakkun's inspection of his face. Kakashi smirked—several months ago Pakkun had crashed through their shoji and licked both him and Sakura awake, so he was very well acquainted with where his guest found himself.

"Pakkun, no," he said, pointing instead at Sakura. The dog's attention turned towards her immediately, and he nearly bounced over to her to similarly smother her with dog kisses. The man, vaguely conscious, blinked slowly around himself before settling a consternated look on Kakashi's face—well, several inches above his face.

"I'm Hatake Kakashi, a samurai of Fujimi district under the rule of Sarutobi Hiruzen. It would appear that I am to be your host as you recover," he let the man take that in for a moment before hesitantly asking after the man's own name and origins.

"I'm…" black eyes roved around a little, and Kakashi noted that they were bright with fever, "I'm afraid I don't know where that is…and" he laughed softly, but there was almost a desperate quality to the sound, "I'm not exactly sure I remember my own name."

* * *

 

Sakura didn't mind when Kakashi connived to have Kurenai around during the day. She wasn't nearly as badly suspicious as her husband was, but their guest still scared her. Kakashi's eye was often squinted with disturst each morning as he helped Tenzou move the man into the main room. She didn't ask him, because really what was the point? Sarutobi-sama had ordered them to allow the injured man into their home, and allow him in they would. What scared Sakura, and made her grateful for Kurenai's presence, was her guest's amnesia as well as his wounds—had he angered a rival? Been attacked by bandits? She feared what had hurt him, as well as who he might have been before his injuries.

He even had trouble remembering everyone's names from day to day. A quirk of his illness which was initially cute, but quickly became wearisome, was his penchant for bestowing nicknames to people. Specifically Sakura, since she was his near constant companion and he  had to call her  something . Tenzou and Kakashi were outside doing chores for a lot of the day, while Kurenai and Sakura stayed inside with their own chores and occupations.

What the man called Sakura was something that made no one happy other than their guest—who was sufficiently out of his head that they had to forgive him for it. It was even a replacement for his initial nickname. They had been sitting down to eat supper about a week after returning from Iimori, all bundled close to the fire for warmth, even their guest who could now sit upright for short periods of time. The man had smiled mechanically at her as she served his food and gave it to him, and then he had said  it.

"Thank you, Oni-san."

It took him more than a few seconds to pick up on the fact that his three companions were staring at him, mouths agape. Sakura tried to say something, but she just couldn't. There weren't any words to respond to him—of course it was expected, somehow, but he had still casually stated that his host's wife was a demon. Kakashi had been the first to find his voice, choking out his words.

"I…I would thank you if you didn't refer to my wife that…way…while you're in my house." She and Tenzou looked away from the two men, leaving them in a private conversation—the head of house and his guest, as it was supposed to be.

"What shall I call her then?" the black haired man was genuinely curious, puzzled that his nickname wasn't met with praise somehow.

"Merely call her by her name, as you do with my servant and I."

"But I forget your names during the night and day, you introduce yourselves to me each morning and each evening—Oni-san works quite well for a woman so obviously of demonic heritage, and she  must have a name because we are around each other nearly the entire day." Sakura ducked her head down, blinking furiously to rid her eyes of tears. She had thought herself to be immune to the constant comparison of her appearance and that of an evil spirit, but every time something happened that disturbed her inner peace. Like this.

"You cannot call her that," Kakashi's voice rose a little—not loud or even a shout, but quite forceful. Sakrua peeked up a little to look over at him, a warm smile bubbling inside as he defended her. "You can call Sakura a nything you wish, but you may  not call her 'Oni-san' in place of her actual name." Their guest rose to the challenge admirably, and almost a little too fast.

"So to call her, for instance, 'The Hag' would meet with your approval, if only because it is in place of 'Oni-san'?" he cocked his head to the side, still mystified at his host's insistence on this. Kakashi's shoulder's slumped but he nodded, suddenly tired.

"Yes, that would be acceptable."

Their guest was slow to remember things, but eventually he started to recall who he had been before arriving in Fujimi. He said he had been a painter, and had quietly asked after potentially taking it up once again—perhaps the familiarity with the paints would bring back other details yet left hazy by his injury. By midwinter he mostly remembered who he was, but his own name eluded him. Kakashi called him—in a sarcastic bordering on caustic manner—Sai, against the man's small protests.

"If you're going to call my wife  The Hag , I will call you  Sai ."

After that  Sai made more of an effort from day to day to call her by her name rather than his nickname for her. He tried to help out around the house as he could, but he tired easily. Instead he often sat by the fire with Kurenai as Sakura bustled around the house when she had chores to do. Otherwise the three of them stayed near the warmth of the main room. He would paint, while the women made infant swaddling.

Kurenai would have her baby at the end of spring, or the very beginning of summer, and in all honesty sometimes neither woman could think of more to do around the house other than sew. Kakashi, Asuma, and Tenzou spent their days mostly outside repairing fences, or cutting wood. Doing the maintenance that hadn't been done since at least the summer, which was obviously taxing to the three of them. Asuma would show up with Kakashi usually only to retrieve Kurenai and head across the fields towards their own home. Sakura wondered sometimes why they didn't all live together, but it was obviously a point of pride to Asuma to maintain his own house—so she didn't bring anything up.

* * *

 

Kakashi hadn't spent a winter lying next to someone for years. Of course he and Sakura were approaching their one-year anniversary in the spring—a spare two months now—and had slept on the same futon since then, but winter brought out a very different aspect of sleeping with her at his side. The cold chill of evening in their room had them diving for the covers faster and faster as winter fell on Fujimi. Some nights this cold dissipated quickly as they made love, but other nights it waited at the edges of their covers for a stray toe as they tried to simply go to sleep.

On the few evenings each month that Sakura wouldn't let him have her, for instance, they cuddled close to one another and tried to rest. She also liked to be warm those nights it seemed, and thieved his covers relentlessly. He almost always woke up in the middle of the night, finding that Sakura had stolen some part of their blankets and that she'd left his arm, his back, or his foot in the cold. This brought up the fact that the last time he'd spent the winter sharing another person's warmth was when he'd been a child, no more than five or six—protected from blanket thieves by his grandmother. His father's mother had slept in the main room near the fire with him cuddled up to her side, and she'd told him fairytales until he fell asleep.

But with Sakura it was different—the biggest difference of course was that she was his wife not his grandmother—but Kakashi liked each and every one of those differences. He went to sleep warm and (most of the time) woke up warm. The smell of Sakura's hair was on his pillows and in his nose, and her breath would be washing across his collarbone. Their late night conversations conducted in hushed tones so as not to bother Tenzou or Sai—who was apparently an amazingly light sleeper. Kakashi still couldn't believe…he hadn't ever  imagined that a life like this would ever happen to him.

"Do you think it's foggy outside this morning?" Sakura hadn't been a fan of the winter in Fujimi. It had rained hard and long well into the season, and a sudden cold snap had nearly killed her newly-sprouted spring vegetables. And they got closer to spring, the days were less filled with rain and more with fog. It was eerie, yes, but Kakashi had spent nearly his entire life living in Fujimi and so it was a routine sort of oddness. Sakura however looked forward to the return of warmth, and of sunshine.

"Isn't it always foggy?"

"Yes, but I prayed last night that it would be sunny. I want it to be sunny today," she didn't say anything more, however Kakashi could  feel some kind of giddiness bubbling out from her. But she would tell him what it was about when she wanted to. She pecked a kiss to his lips as she got up. Dawn light was just barely starting to make its way into the house, so all he could see was her dim shape in the gloom. Later on, Asuma would be over for sparring, and after they would walk through the fields to ensure that they were all still properly flooded. Sakura and Kurenai would look to the rice plants themselves, Kurenai teaching Sakura how to look after the plants before they would be transferred to the fields.

There was also the fact that their guest, Sai, had asked if he could go to the town for paints—he wanted to paint all of their portraits in return for their kindness to him. Kakashi was wary, but Sakura had seemed pleased with the idea and so he allowed it. The man could now remember all of their names and was fairly certain that he was from Kyoto—his accent was the same as Tenzou's, and the brown haired man had spent half his childhood in Kyoto. It was all very innocent, but the smiles which didn't always reach Sai's eyes caused Kakashi a moment of pause. Regularly. He knew that everyone in their small group knew of his scheming, but it was polite not to bring up the fact that Kakashi saw to it that neither Sakura nor Kurenai were left alone in the house with the amnesiac painter.

Sakura had gotten dressed and was putting up her hair—he could now just barely see her rather than her dim outline—with well-practiced efficiency.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Grilled fish, just what I always want," he teased back at her. Really she could have served rice and miso every morning and Kakashi would have been pleased with the meal, but she usually gave him a choice of what he wanted to eat. Sakura's face twisted a little before she stuck her tongue out at him as he reluctantly stood up in the chilly morning air.

"Gross—maybe I'll try to make those rice rolls Sai says they make in Kyoto. That will teach you a lesson," she said while she dodged his arms only to find that he'd feinted and she was still caught. He held her close with one arm while his free hand tilted her face up, and he grinned in answer to her devious smile.

"Oh and what will that lesson be?"

"Making people get up and go fishing this early in the morning, you would deserve whatever horror my cooking turned out to be."

* * *

 

Shisui heard little of the outside world other than the muted conversations conducted in the halls—his family's home had been destroyed, while all of the servants had been questioned thoroughly as to where Uchiwa Shisui had disappeared to. He felt terrible that such a thing had transpired, but he had to protect himself and his wife. They lived in darkened rooms deep within his friend's city house. The rooms with windows outside to even courtyards were too heavily frequented, and it would be odd to close such prime spaces to guests—and in the wake of the Uchiwa arrests it was always best not to seem odd or out of place. Apparently many other samurai families were reeling as the true depths of the investigation were gradually made known.

This left them in limbo at the moment. The servants had been sworn to secrecy on pain of death, while all around the city Advisor Gama's investigators swarmed in the search for the last few Uchiwa. He often contemplated how to ever repay the kindness they had been granted, for the danger his old friend Nobu put himself in for their sakes.

Rin for her part was largely despondent. She had been taken from all her acquaintances in Fujimi, and just when she had started to connect with her peers here in Edo she had been snatched away from them. In his plan of staying out of the eye of the government until the rest of the family had been dealt with, Shisui worried about Rin. She wanted to live a normal life, turn her back on their faith—except Shisui could think of no way to truly give her either of those freedoms. If they recanted openly, they might still be executed—no doubt stripped of their rank as well. Shisui deeply understood the place his cousin had felt himself to be in.

It was Itachi's brave cowardice that gave Shisui the strength to carry on. He and Rin would leave Edo in the spring and make their way north to Ezochi, and try to make a living out on that desolate frontier. It was securing the water passage that was difficult, the rest could be managed easily. Well, easily in the sense that they would be living as commoners as they travelled—Ezochi was far enough and wild enough that perhaps they could reclaim their place in what little society the northern island could offer. Shisui knew admittedly little about that place, and the Ezo who peopled it, but there were no other options.

Sometimes his wife would cry at night, softly so as not to bring unnecessary attention to their rooms. Shisui held her and wished he could cry as well. Their entire family would be dead by fall, and all of their previous acquaintances would be under compulsion to turn them in to the authorities should they make themselves known. The Uchiwa and their kirishitan faith had been mostly overlooked by those few who knew of it—in Fujimi at least—but after the rounding up of the family, Shisui doubted that even Kakashi would take them in.

The nights when Rin wept, Shisui's thoughts often turned to his near-brother. Kakashi had been Obito's best friend, was even the reason Obito was dead—sacrificed himself to save both Kakashi and his father. The man had been Shisui's other older brother, and Sakumo had been a warmer version of Fugaku. Their two families had meshed surprisingly well despite the constantly kept secret of religion. Shisui was now glad that after Sakumo's death Kakashi had withdrawn from them—hopefully he and his new bride had been spared from suspicion, but he sadly doubted it. The morning last spring he'd spent laughing with Kakashi had been a true blessing, sitting there with both the man's pink haired wife and Rin.

Had the girl truly had pink hair? Shisui's mouth quirked to the side with a wry laugh. That would put the Hatake man in a tight position. If Kakashi had avoided arrest, it would have taken a miracle of storytelling to the right audience…but if anyone could do it, it would be his friend. He hoped that years from now he might feel safe enough to contact the man, reconnect as brothers once more—without, hopefully, the threat of arrest.

For now he simply prayed for his loved ones—his blood relatives, his close friends, and their families, Kakashi and his pink haired wife. The winter outside was raging with howling winds, and even once the weather turned closer to spring the winds did not abate. He knew that the weather reflected a lot of things, and he could only suppose that many other people were just as displaced and terrified as he and Rin were—how else would one explain the dreary weather? It didn't rain very much that winter either, which was worrying after the drought surrounding Edo-proper of the previous summer.

Shisui briefly prayed that they got out of the city before perhaps another year went by without rain—not that he was outside much to miss it.

* * *

 

He stayed silent for the entire hour-long walk to Fujimi. The coins Sakura had given him jingled softly in their pouch, but they were the only marker of his passing. His breathing was controlled and his footsteps were light despite the quick pace he walked at. The pain of his injuries was nothing, and he was glad to finally have a chance where he could meditate such pain away—it would arouse suspicion if he were to be walking without pain just three spare months since his grievous injuries, just as his Edo accent had had to be dropped in favor for a Kyoto one.

His plan was foolproof, he knew that much from spending the winter with them. The family rarely went into town for anything, and even then they never spent much time there. They probably wouldn't hear of him sending a letter until he was already gone, and even if they did he could explain that he was writing a letter to his father asking for the means to return home, that he finally remembered himself. His master would be especially pleased with his findings, he knew, although greatly amused at the lengths he had gone to complete his mission.

Really, who stabbed themselves repeatedly and then travelled on the road another six miles?

_ My dear father, _

_ The goods you requested me to pick up are indeed in Fujimi, set aside for you by Sarutobi-sama, but I am ill-equipped to transport them because I lack the proper documentation. If you would come to me here I am being cared for by Hatake Kakashi and his family, and afterwards the two of us should be well able to take your property back to Edo. _

_ Your son. _


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: You flood rice paddies for a few weeks before you plant the rice. And most rice plants in Asia are actually designed to grow best submerged in a healthy dose of inches deep water.
> 
> Funfact: The fire referenced here is based on the Great Meireki Fire of 1656. This fire basically leveled most of Edo (modern day Tokyo) and killed over 100,000 people in three days. For reference: Nothing came close to the destruction of the Meireki Fire until the US firebombed Tokyo in WWII, which also killed around 100,000 people. I'm saying that the fire is based on it because in my timeline this is actually the spring of 1658.
> 
> Funfact:: Samurai sometimes did leave their masters for greener and greater pastures, there could be problems with that however based on who they and their original lords were. Etc. Masterless samurai basically terrified the living crud out of anyone who breathed, so you never let on that you were between masters at the moment because yeah. Makes things awkward at dinner parties.
> 
> Funfact: Japanese carriages are tiny and they have tiny windows in the doors that people would peek out of sometimes. They were also carried by people rather than on wheels and pulled by horses for the most part. 
> 
> Funfact: You actually do keep a lot of your important records in the butsudan because...that stuff is important! So you let the ancestors look after it when you don't have the time.
> 
> Funotherstuff: Sai's name means (as far as I can tell) "talented" so there's that. He has a great talent for pissing people off...
> 
> Funfact: Letters took a long time to get places back in the day, they just did. 
> 
> Funfact: The Meireki Fire burned for three days, the first day it blew one way because of the winds. The second day the winds shifted and it blew the other way. The third day the winds started to die down and so did the fires but not before burning a bunch more of the city. It took a week for the smoke to clear enough for priests and people helping them to be able to sift through the wreckage for bodies which were then buried in a mass grave near the Sumida river. Really, really horrific stuff.
> 
> Funfact: The shogun's castle would have burned as well, but he was the shogun and that kind of stuff just doesn't happen to him. But since everyone's efforts were directed towards saving his housepalacething, the surrounding homes of his retainers and and high ranking samurai kind of got met a fiery end. So yeah. Good to be (basically) king, not good to be almost (basically) king. Remember that.
> 
> Funfact: You actually did have to have papers identifying who you were to be able to travel in Edo-period Japan. They were specific to your journey, usually, so I am fudging this a little bit. 
> 
> Funfact: Dejima or Deshima or Desjima, depending on how you prefer to spell it, was the formerly-Portuguese-permanently-Dutch trading outpost/island in the Nagasaki harbor. It was here that the Dutch and the Chinese would trade with Japan, since Japan had said GTFO MAI SANDBAR to basically everyone else (To the Portuguese and Spanish because of that whole Catholic thing they wanted to export to Japan, and the English because of reasons). They still traded within their sphere though.
> 
> Funfact: This is in my opinion apocryphal because I can't for the life of me remember where I read it, but the shogunate back in the day (as in before Samurai is set) heard some interesting news about the Spanish. This Spanish captain was standing off to the side with a Japanese official as the cargo was offloaded, some of that cargo being a bunch of Jesuits and their crap, and he offhandedly remarked that the Jesuits would ruin the peace in Japan, start wars, and enslave everyone if they were given half a chance. Once this was translated for the official he kind of was like "...Huh." And promptly told the shogun who was not into any of those ideas.

The routine of gearing up for planting was unchanged for two blissful weeks until just days before they were to start. Asuma didn't appear early in the morning for sparring, and Kurenai made no trek across the rice paddies to do her washing with Sakura. They waited for nearly a half hour before Kakash made the decision to move forward in the day, that they would work around the absence of the Sarutobi family. Kakashi sent Tenzou out into the fields with Sai—the man wanted to paint the fields, and after the highly uncomfortable two weeks while he painted Kakashi and Sakura sitting together, Kakashi was inclined to let the man have his way…while of course getting out of his house and away from Sakura. Tenzou had strict, unspoken instructions to keep a sharp eye on their guest, and to keep an ear out for Pakkun's barking as the dog was left with Sakura in the house.

Kakashi himself set out across one of the many narrow pathways which lined the paddies, headed to Asuma's house. It was rare to visit him there now, but not unheard of—and it was getting later and later in the day, with no signs from his neighbors. The rest of the world seemed to be at peace with itself. The early spring birds were chirruping and singing to one another, while the air was filled with the smell of muddy earth and the dying breaths of winter's chill. The trees were starting to bud leaves, making them tinged with green as they stood proud against the pale blue of the sky. But his blinded eye ached, and he wondered later if that had been Obito giving him a sign that, despite everything, something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Kurenai must have heard his steps coming towards the house because she had the shoji open within moments of his arrival to the house.

"Kakashi, you have to come in—the most awful news has…" her voice wobbled on the edge of tears, and she stopped speaking in an effort to compose herself a little. Kakashi politely looked away from the tears which were drying on her cheeks, focusing on getting his sandals off as quickly as possible. Their house was quite cool—almost cold—as Kurenai led him to where Asuma sat, in apparent shock.

"Asu—" Kakashi's voice froze in his throat when he saw Asuma's ashen face. His friend's eyes were flat, as deadened as his voice.

"Edo burned a week ago—there's nothing left, the fire burned for three days—it might still be burning," Asuma's voice was hoarse, no doubt how Kakashi would sound in an hour—there was more, but already Kakashi was sinking to his knees in disbelief. He thought he heard Kurenai stifle a sob, but he couldn't be sure for the buzzing in his ears and the pounding of his heart.

"They sent runners out to the daimyo, telling them that all the efforts in the city are being directed to rebuilding, towards caring for the survivors…that if they need to know the whereabouts of their families they need to send their own samurai to the capital—my uncle wants you to go look for Iruka and Anko, and to bring them back here with you once you find them." Asuma's voice was bewildered but underlying every word was a note of rising panic, and it showed in his eyes as something tugged viscerally on his heart—forcing even more words to come out of him. His dark gray eyes clenched shut as he continued speaking.

"They…they don't know how many have died yet, but probably thousands at the very lowest estimate…the entire city was burned, even the shogun's castle was damaged. And…Kakashi, you have to know—I would go, but my uncle has forbidden me to endanger myself, I'm his heir in Iruka's absence. He trusts you to be able to find his son." Kakashi bent his head forward slightly in acknowledgment, his mind racing.

"I understand—did he leave word of when I am supposed to leave?" the implicit question— what about the rice planting? —hung in the air between them.

"Two days, to give you time to prepare. He will provide everything you need to get there—money, a fast horse, documentation. We will take care of everything here, I promise you." Kakashi's head sank forward as he acknowledged the orders. His loyalty to Sarutobi was unquestioned across the fief, he was the natural choice for the retrieval of Iruka. Sometimes he had to wonder what kind of person he had been in his last life to have deserved some of the things that happened to him in this one.

" Kakashi ," Asuma leaned closer to him, putting a bracing hand on his shoulder.

"I will take care of your family, your rice will be planted on time and properly. Now, you should go—you leave the day after tomorrow. My uncle should visit you soon, probably this afternoon or tomorrow morning.  Go ."

He was still in shock as he stood and bowed to Asuma and then to Kurenai. His hands were shaking as he closed the shoji behind himself after putting his sandals back on. When he nearly wandered off the raised path into the soggy rice paddy he managed to gain a little control over himself. He had been to Edo as a boy—Fugaku had needed to visit the city for some reason and had taken a ten year old Kakashi along for the trip. The city had been sprawling even twenty years ago, and Kakashi still remembered the vividly peopled streets. High born women in carriages were carried along the thoroughfares, peeking out sometimes from their small latticed windows to give him a sweet smile. The poor bowing left and right, the destitute asking for alms while those with the means crafted what they could and sold their wares to passerby.

That visit had been the only time in Kakashi's life where he had considered leaving Fujimi to seek a master other than Sarutobi. While he had ultimately decided that his duty was to the lord of his father, to his family, and ultimately to his father Sakumo, Kakashi had been sorely tempted.

But that glistening, dirty city was completely destroyed, and its people dead or fled to the countryside. It wasn't truly real until he thought of Iruka, or of Shisui—if Shisui had somehow by some miracle survived the arrests of the Uchiwa family. They could each be dead, burned to death in a nearly mythic fire. If Kakashi had heard of it while in town he would have written off the scale and proportion as being the product of a lonely four day walk across the country—however he was hearing it from the nephew of the daimyo.

Getting closer to the house Kakashi briefly debated on what he should do next, who he should tell first. Tenzou was at the far end of the south field, and while Kakashi knew that if he shouted he could get the brown haired man to hear him…the effort wasn't in him. Tenzou and Sai would do well enough for a little longer, which left Sakura. The sun was trying to peek out from the clouds as he walked slowly into the house. With one hand raised to rub the back of his neck, Kakashi walked softly to the back porch where Sakura was in the yard. She had been spending the last few days fussing over what survived of her vegetable crop.

Pakkun was the first to notice him standing there, leaning against one of the posts, and huffed a bark at him before trotting towards him and nosing into the hand he let dangle at his side. Sakura looked up at the soft sound the dog made, the smile on her face fading away as she took in his expression. She quickly dusted and wiped her hands clean while standing to cross the yard. Kakashi folded his legs underneath himself to sit, his eye sinking closed.

He didn't want to leave, not when they were going to start planting within days. And then there was the fact that he had seen an estate fire once, the entire family had burned to death—he didn't want to see that on the scale of an entire city. He didn't want to leave Sakura with only Tenzou and their odd guest, not when Asuma and Kurenai's attention would soon be focused on their baby. Sakura's hands touched his gently, and he took time to appreciate the feeling of her calluses and the strength in her small fingers. They sat there together on the porch for a few minutes while Kakashi worked on how he was going to break the news properly.

"Are Kurenai and Asuma alright?" Sakura had one of his hands sandwiched between hers, smoothing her fingers across the backs of his own. There was something very soothing in what she was doing, and that somehow gave Kakashi the courage to properly start. With his head bowed forward he opened his eye to look down on their hands as he spoke.

"I'm being sent to Edo, to look for Sarutobi-sama's son Iruka. The city…"he couldn't say it out loud—he  couldn't  –"the city burned a week ago." He paused to take a deep, steadying breath, "Sarutobi-sama only got the news this morning or late last night. He notified Asuma this morning that in the event of Iruka's passing, Asuma will function as his heir."

He looked up into Sakura's wide green eyes, "I leave the day after tomorrow, at the latest."

* * *

 

He knew that as soon as his master arrived in Fujimi—and event likely to be delayed because of the fire in Edo—that the lives of his hosts would change immensely. Because of this, he went about looking for records which his master could use to improve that change, rather than become a detriment, which he felt was unfair to the small family. The demon woman was sweet to everyone and everything around her—although she had what he might call a  temper . He rarely used such words without due cause, and the woman  certainly gave him cause. She often took the high ground with him when he tried to suggest different methods of doing things. She said that as the lady of the house she was the final arbiter of decisions made in Kakashi's absence, and that unless he wished to take up her chores entirely he would politely go back to painting.

Despite this, her sweetness remained and as such strengthened his resolve to get his master to help the family.

Kakashi probably kept most of his records where all other normal people did—in the butsudan, for the ancestors and spirits to watch over. So he simply waited that evening until Tenzou dropped off to sleep before slipping from his covers and noiselessly slinking through the house towards the room. Sakura and Kakashi were still out in the bathhouse together, and it was a calculated risk that he took in hoping neither would visit the butsudan before bed.

His guess was the right one. He quickly found out that Sarutobi had increased the land holding by thirty percent, and had increased the stipend on the land by fifty percent as compensation for Kakashi taking him in over the winter. But as he glanced over the other documents he realized that he would have to wait for another evening to read them fully—tonight he just didn't have the luxury for a lengthy perusal. So instead he gathered the papers and scrolls he needed and crept back to the room they had him sharing with Tenzou. Hiding his loot was easily accomplished—although he had had to hang in the air uncomfortably crouched over when Kakashi and Sakura returned from the bath. After four agonizing minutes of complete stillness he was sure they had heard no undue rustles from his room, and he was soon back in his bed.

Less than a half hour passed, and he had just barely started to doze when somewhere else in the house a shoji hissed as it was opened. His eyes—patiently glued shut in preparation to sleep—snapped open as well at the sound of quick footsteps.

* * *

 

He was combing her hair when Sakura decided to tell him. They'd been quiet for most of the afternoon and nearly silent during dinner. Sai and Tenzou had thanked her for the meal before quickly excusing themselves. Kakashi hadn't met her eyes for the most part, lost in his own world of grief and travel plans. He'd helped her put away their dinner, and they'd bathed. Now they were settled down in their room, and it was the best time to let him know.

"Kakashi?"

He paused. Sakura was reminded of another time she had worked up the nerve to ask him this.

"Before you leave for Edo, could you write a letter to my father? For us?" she held her breath as he took the comb away from her hair, and so when it clicked against the floor softly she almost believed it echoed. There was a minute pause. Kakashi's clothes rustled faintly as he pulled her back a little and turned her head to face him. In the flickering light of their lamp she could see the emotions and thoughts going on in his head. A faint, nerve-filled smile pulled a few muscles in his face but he stayed silent.

Sakura glanced away from his face, feeling her own heat slightly under his scrutiny. She turned towards him a bit more and he caught her legs, pulling her close to be cradled in his arms. Kakashi's breathing was shallow, as though he might not catch her words if he dared breathe normally.

"I was going to tell you once I was really sure. I was late last month—completely missed an entire… but Kurenai told me to wait a few weeks. Wait and see if I missed my bleeding again. That way I could have confidence when I told you, when I told you that…" she knew she must have been beet red, and that she was babbling, but she didn't care. She didn't care because of the wide grin which started to split Kakashi's face as he understood, as he got the confirmation of the truth of his suspicions. He laughed a little, shocked and incredulous, while he put a shaking hand to her cheek.

"Say it, please say it," his voice was no more than a whisper.

She wasn't sure she could, but after a few false-starts, it finally came out.

"Kakashi, I think that you're going to be a father," she managed as her own laugh bubbled out of her. She had had to tell him before he left, despite how gloomy his current errand was—the news was far too important for him to hear of it upon his return or even in a letter. His forehead came to rest on hers and they both softly laughed a little longer. Kakashi kissed her cheek and then kissed his way down to her lips.

"I love you, you beautiful, wonderful woman—you could give me no better parting gift than this," he pulled himself away from her to speak, tucking her head underneath his chin while he squeezed her tightly against his body. "Of course I'll write to your father, of course."

When they finally lay down to sleep, it was with Kakashi laying on his side as his arm cradled her head. One of his hands traced idle patterns on her hip. Sakura was quick to fall asleep, she had been feeling quite fatigued by the end of the day for the last week or so.

Kakashi meanwhile couldn't take his eyes away from her, and he was far too keyed up to even shut his eyes. Sakura curled into his side, sighing in her sleep as she turned away from the light of the still-burning lamp. In the soft orange-yellow light her hair looked like it was alive. For a moment, as brief as it was selfish, Kakashi prayed that Sakura would give their child her brightly colored hair. She'd cautioned him that she wasn't yet completely sure, but Kakashi himself was sure. In his life, he found, good fortune followed hot on the heels of catastrophe—and if Edo itself were in cinders that he was left to deal with, was it so hard to believe that his wife had fallen pregnant?

His philosophical introspection stuttered to a halt at that and it hit him once again—he was to be a father by winter.  Sakura would give him a child by winter! It was far too late in the night to run to Asuma's, and besides it would be much more appropriate—and easy—to tell Tenzou and Sai. He tried not to wake Sakura as he got up but abandoned the idea when she sleepily blinked her eyes open. A quick kiss was all he gave her as he snapped the shoji open and walked quickly through the house to Tenzou's room—all of this so quickly he didn't see her bemused expression, or the quirk of her eyebrow. Kneeling hastily at the shoji, Kakashi tapped at it briefly in a gesture of politeness.

" Tenzou," he hissed, tapping a bit more forcefully.

"Tenzou!" hearing only a little bit of rustling—likely Sai, the light sleeper—Kakashi frowned before he opened the shoji and let the light from his lamp spill inside.

"Kakashi, what are you—" the brown haired man's words were barely more than a mumble of protest against the sudden disappearance of both quiet and darkness. Kakashi's brain nearly shorted out as he realized for the third time that night the gravity of what Sakura had told him. Perhaps it was his nerves about the upcoming trip to Edo that had him reacting so forcefully, or perhaps he had begun to want this news more than he'd realized.

"Sakura's just told me, she's just told me that she's—that she's—she's—"

"I take it that the H…Sakura has given you reason to hope for an heir?" Sai's voice was a bit more awake, probably from the noise Kakashi had made crossing through the house. His politeness unnerved Kakashi a little bit, but the feeling was fleeting. Tenzou had gotten up and knelt in front of Kakashi, reaching between them to put bracing hands on the white haired man's shoulders, a grin on his face.

"If tactlessly talented over there is guessing right, you have my congratulations Kakashi." Kakashi made no effort to shrug off Tenzou's hands or make little of his servant's words, choosing to grin awkwardly—Sai had been around all winter and had asked enough curious and needling questions that they had dropped the pretense of the Hatake family keeping their servant at arm's length. It was far too hard to maintain the proper distance between family and help, and so they hadn't.

Pakkun got up and followed him out of the room as he awkwardly stood and bid his goodbyes after awhile. It occurred to him that his face hurt from grinning. The dog went to the back door and whined a little, so Kakashi let him out before wandering to the extra room where Sakura retreated to with Kurenai sometimes. They'd been making preparations for the arrival of his friends' child, but now they would soon be doing so for his own as well. He really should have told Pakkun before the dog went outside—he wasn't sure how the runt would react to not being the baby of the family anymore.

But first he wandered, still a bit dazed, towards the butsudan to light some incense for his father and to tell him the good news. The place was silent and hushed, undisturbed as it ought to be. He rang the bell softly, and his clap was subdued, but after that he knelt to merrily tell his father everything.

How Sakura was the greatest gift he had ever had and that now she was soon to carry the family into another generation. He thanked his father for watching out for their family, and expressed his hopes that Sakumo approved of his son's conduct with the family. He also brought the sad news of the destruction of Edo, but tempered it with the hope that Iruka was alive. A soft bark from outside the house distracted him and he quickly made his goodbyes so that Pakkun wouldn't crash through the walls in an effort to get in.

The brown akita panted happily into his face when he let him in and knelt down. They'd finally managed to establish that Pakkun wasn't supposed to lick him, but was allowed to lick just about anyone else around the house.

"Pakkun, you're going to take this hard because you won't understand what's going on, but you're not going to be an only child anymore. Sakura is going to have a baby—do you know that word pup?" Pakkun quirked his head to the side as though considering it.

"Well, it's your job to protect both of them starting today, until I get back at least. You have to keep her safe for me, can you do that?" he wasn't sure if Pakkun was whining or growling, but it sounded like an agreement. He grinned again and ruffled the fur on the dog's head before standing up and heading back to his room. Pakkun waited, hesitant, in the hallway until Kakashi turned and clicked his tongue and gestured to his side— come .

Pakkun would be sleeping in the room with Sakura from now on, until Kakashi himself returned.

* * *

 

When Kakashi woke the morning he was supposed to leave, he didn't immediately get up. Instead he wrapped his arms around Sakura and held her close while she slept. The day before he had begged Sarutobi-sama to send another samurai looking for Iruka, even admitting Sakura's condition to sway the man's opinion. All he'd gotten for his trouble was a small congratulations as well as the assurance that his family would be cared for in his hopefully short absence. He knew he was the best suited for the search, but Kakashi was having a hard time telling himself that this morning.

"Kakashi?" Sakura was just starting to wake, burrowing a little closer to him under the covers.

"Yes?"

"Will you write to us when you get to Edo?" he smiled and nosed through her hair to kiss the back of her neck.

"Of course—will you write to me?" she hummed agreement as she took his hand and pressed it low on her belly. Of course she would write to him as soon as she was sure of her pregnancy. Kakashi wondered how her body would have changed by the time he came home—on one hand he hoped it changed dramatically, and on the other he hoped that Sakura didn't change all that much. The first one was a sure sign that they would soon be parents, while the second one meant that he hadn't missed anything.

"I will try to return as soon as I can," he murmured, resting his cheek against her shoulder blade. The cover of darkness didn't hide the hitch in her breath as she tried not to cry.

Later on in the morning he got ready to leave. He had packed last night, and today strapped his travelling bag to Sarutobi-sama's horse. Sakura stood petting the animal, keeping it calm as well as creating a reason to be near him. Her hair nearly glowed in the weak sunlight, a beautiful otherworldly pink. Kakashi double checked that he had the money given to him for the journey as he stepped over to Sakura. He took her hands and kissed them both.

"It will be at least a week before any letter reaches you, I am going to send them enclosed in my letters to Sarutobi-sama, and maybe another week before your reply reaches me. I asked your father to visit as soon as he could, so that you won't be alone," he let go of one of her hands to brush his knuckles along her cheek.

"I love you, Sakura."

She only nodded, unable to speak because she was fighting against crying. He kissed her hands once again before stepping back from her and taking the reins of the horse to lead it out to the road. He mounted and gently urged the beast into a canter towards town. From there he would take the South East Road almost straight to Edo, a two or three day ride from Fujimi.

* * *

 

The fire had started earlier in the day, and it was easy to see the smoke rising above the city as the high winds swept it over the rooftops. It moved ravenously fast, according to Nobu who had sent his household servants to aid in fighting the fire. It was because of their absence that Nobu and his family were dining with Shisui and Rin—there weren't any prying eyes or wagging tongues about, so it was safe to eat in the regular dining room. The smell of smoke diminished everyone's appetites as it had gotten stronger throughout the day, and everyone picked at the evening meal rather than actually eating it. By nightfall it was hard to see the bright red glow of the fire because of all the smoke being blown across the city.

Shisui prayed that the fire would be controlled or satisfied soon. But the steam of people who were fleeing the fire said otherwise, and he told Rin to pack a bag for the two of them as he went out to the stable to ready horses for both them and for Nobu and his family—just a precaution, he said, for if the fire started towards them. They went to sleep uneasily that night, and woke to find that even their room—as deep in the house as it was—had been clogged with smoke. Shisui almost panicked, thinking that the house was on fire, but Rin calmed him down by taking him to the front gate to see the streets similarly choked.

"Can we go? Please, Shisui, let's go before the fire gets worse," her words were muffled by the damp cloth she held over her face. Shisui shook his head while he coughed.

"No, we'll stay a little longer," he said as he led her back inside to wait with Nobu.

* * *

 

Kakashi was incredibly sore by the time he arrived in Edo—it had been years since he'd travelled by horseback, and his body was unused to the strange gait of a horse coupled with the long hours he'd kept on the road. As he'd gotten closer to the city it had been more and more difficult to find a bed in a ryokan, and the night previous he had ended up sleeping out in the open curled up to the horse's flank for warmth. The wind had started howling, and those he briefly conversed with on the road had said that the fire in Edo had been stoked and fueled by the winds—the winds had briefly died down enough for the fires to die themselves, but had quickly started blowing again. The only luck had been that those left alive had been able to fully quench the fires, and so the fires had stayed dead.

The people he spoke with who had escaped the city were haunted by their recollections of the destruction. He felt bile rise in his throat more than once at the thought that Iruka might not be alive when he reached the capitol. The homes of the shogun's retainers and many samurai had been utterly demolished, even the castle had been damaged somewhat.

He had known he was close to Edo simply because of the distance he had travelled over the day, but it was the haze of smoke  still hanging over the valley of the city that tipped him off as to how close he really was. The smell of charred fat and incinerated hair, however, didn't reach him until he had descended into the desolate outskirts of the city. Peasants picked through the burnt remains of their homes, and women wailed in mourning over lost husbands, mothers, fathers, and children.

Staying in a ryokan was out of the question, he could tell immediately. Even if one had survived the fire, it would be full of refugees. Kakashi stopped briefly to ask directions to perhaps part of the city which wasn't quite so…destroyed. From the hills he'd topped at around midday it almost looked like the entire city had burned, but far off he could make out some parts that weren't leveled, just singed. He got directions through the city, and counted his coins quietly as he decided he would ask to stay with a family who had perhaps had their home survive the fire.

It was late in the day when he encountered a slightly burned-out house where people were still living. The woman was just coming back from the river, carrying fresh water so she could wash the ash out of her family's clothing, and the husband was on the roof rearranging the thatching so that it covered the livable portion of the home better. They'd exchanged long looks between them at his request, shifting a little on their feet.

* * *

 

Rin woke up coughing, and that was what tipped her off that the house was on fire—no matter how thick the smoke had gotten the day before or even overnight, she hadn't started coughing as incontrollably as she was now. Turning over she shook her husband's shoulder to wake up while reaching for the small cloth she'd been using to cover her mouth. They'd gone to bed having been assured by Nobu that an official had assured him that the fire was moving north once again, that the house was not in danger. They'd all had confidence that that was the case throughout most of the day, but here they were, just after bed with the house on fire.

"We have to wake Nobu," Shisui said tersely as he picked up the bundle she had packed for them, "you go make sure they're awake, I will get the horses. Meet me outside as soon as you think that they're awake, we can't wait."

"Shisui, the house—" Nobu yelled as he ran down the hallway towards their room.

"We know, I'm getting the horses!" Rin took the bundle out of Shisui's arms, knowing there was no need to see that Nobu knew about the house. Shisui was quickly dressing and she noted that for the first time since they'd gone into hiding, Shisui had strapped his swords to himself, preparing for the worst.

"You can use this to get out of the city, here take these," Nobu thrust a packet towards Shisui. It was hastily wrapped in thick cloth, Rin noted as Shisui briefly looked at it before passing it to her as the three of them hurried towards the stables where Nobu's eldest son was getting the mounts out as quickly as he could.

"What are these?" Shisui seemed not to care, but she needed to know—she wasn't taking anything with her that wasn't going to be useful.

"They're my traveling documents—the house isn't going to be saved, there's no one  to save it at this point. I can say that they burned up in the fire, but for now no one knows that I'm going to say that—you can use them to get out of the city and through the country safely. You could go south, to Dejima and escape—you won't have to hide if you go to live among the foreigners. Please, this is the only chance I can give you," he said as they steadied the horses. Shisui pulled himself up onto his horse and then he and Nobu helped Rin up as well.

Once they were properly mounted, Shisui reached an arm down and around Rin towards his friend. They clasped one another's elbows fiercely for a moment before letting go.

"Thank you, for all that you've done, Nobu. For being our friend in our time of need—I know I can't sway your faith, but I believe that you will be rewarded for your goodness." And with that Rin had to cling to Shisui as he spurred the horse down the lane of houses. The air was thick with smoke as they went, and she coughed even with the cloth over her mouth. Shisui had the lower part of his face pressed into her hair to minimize how much smoke they inhaled.

The world was black with ash and soot as they fled for the northern edge of the city.

* * *

 

Finally with a lot of hemming and hawing the couple agreed to let Kakashi stay with them for a few coins a night. They were jittery, but showed him around the still habitable part of their home, cautioning him against exploring the parts which had been damaged by the fire. The small loft on the second story was his to keep for the time being, and they left him to get settled. He decided, as he rubbed the horse down and tied it out front, that it was too late in the day to start looking for Iruka. Besides he was coughing terribly from the smoky air. According to Inoue-san, the head of the family, the smoke had only started to lift a few days ago. Before the streets had been literally soaked with it, and going outside without something to cover one's mouth was akin to suicide.

As he was going back inside, he heard a cough from the nearly collapsed back half of the house. Inoue-san had said his three sons were out for the day looking for their friends as well as helping the priests move the dead to the mass grave which was being rapidly filled with bodies. There should have been no one inside. He therefore stepped lightly towards where he'd heard the sound. A tiny shuffle and a better muffled hack could be heard and Kakashi took slow, silent breaths as he stealthily crossed the house.

If it was a robber, he was certainly going to give them the beating of their life—trying to steal from people who barely had a home left. He halfway hoped that the couple were hiding someone he knew—Shisui's face, as well as Rin's flashed across his mind as he reached towards a few leaning boards and threw them aside. His hands shot forward into the dark and seized onto an arm, and a young man's yell followed before he dragged the person into the light against their every struggle.

And he promptly let go in shock as the light fell on his captive. His tall,  yellow haired captive.

"Go-men, go-men!" the man said quickly as he waved his hands in the air, his words terribly familiar yet terribly strange to Kakashi's ears. The syllables were the same, but were mashed together completely wrong. He started speaking but what came off his tongue was foreign, unintelligible save for a few understandable words here and there. The loud crash of the boards as well as the young man's raised voice brought Inoue-san and his wife into the house towards them. Kakashi could only stare dumbly at this foreigner, who was obviously meant to remain unfound and hidden.

Once Inoue-san and his wife found them, he stopped talking and they remained silent for a long moment before Inoue-san cleared his throat awkwardly.

"He escaped from the shogun's jail as it burned—they let all the prisoners out rather than let them burn to death. He was half-dead already from the smoke when Kanna found him. I've tried to tell him that they'll find him eventually, he can't hide forever, so I understand if you have to turn him in although I'm not sure that he will." Kakashi thought of Sakura, and of the terrible scare they'd had in the fall because of her hair and her heritage. This man was not much different.

"I see nothing wrong with sheltering a spirit to watch over your house in these dark times," he said finally as his hosts shifted from foot to foot and their yellow-haired guest fidgeted in much grander terms. Inoue-san and Kanna-san let out their breaths in relief, understanding somehow what he meant. The foreigner looked curiously between them with wide blue eyes, and Kakashi's mouth ticked upward in a smile as he was reminded of Sakura's grass green ones. He had a duty to protect this man, just as he had a duty to Sakura. Besides, passing a foreigner off as a demon had worked once, right?

* * *

 

He offered to go to town once more for them, as well as to pick up a bolt of cloth for Sakura who was set on making him a properly fitting kimono rather than castoffs from Tenzou who was quite a bit taller and broader than himself. He was rather narrowly built, and of average height—he was ideal for his line of work, being small and easily forgettable. He was also under orders to look for any letters from Sakura's father.

Hatake didn't trust him any farther than he could throw him, and he admired the man's patience with that feeling. That distrust, however, meant that the grumpy samurai had written to ask for back-up during his absence. This would have been annoying under normal circumstances, but the expected letter gave him an  excellent excuse to pick up letters for the Hatake homestead and, as he had hoped, a letter from his master was awaiting him there.

While in town he smiled to those he encountered and answered their cautious questions about the Hatake family. Yes, Hatake-sama had been sent to Edo in search of Sarutobi-sama's son. No, the planting wasn't started yet but Sarutobi-sama's nephew was planning on coming to town soon to hire help. Yes, Asuma-sama's wife was in good health. He answered jovially to all comers, because he was the addled guest of the rather strange, white haired samurai and his demon wife. The question that gave him genuine pleasure to answer, however, was the one asking after the finely embroidered clothes he wore. He'd been found with no money, no papers—there was no way these were his clothes, which generated a lot of curiosity. He'd worn these specifically to generate interest, to maybe bring Sakura a little bit of work to help with filling the family's coffers.

"Oh, Sakura-san patched this together from one of the servant's old things. She did the embroidery herself, within just a few days she had this finished for me." Their eyes would widen as they quietly asked if they could inspect his sleeve, or for him to slowly turn about so they could get a better look. He nearly grinned at their hushed awe of Sakura's work—for she was truly gifted, and he knew he would miss her beautiful stitches once he returned to his master in Edo.

With the instructions of not a few women to pass on the word that they would visit the demon woman with shichi-go-san kimono commissions for their children, he cheerfully bid his goodbyes to the various villagers of Fujimi and turned his steps back towards the Hatake farm. The letter from his master was tucked carefully into his kimono. As soon as he was far enough from the town to not be bothered by passerby he took it out and unfolded it. His master's powerful, lyrical voice sounded in his head as he quickly read over the letter.

_ My dear son, _

_ It was gratifying to hear that you are well and are being cared for. I feared the worst after your long absence as well as the long wait between your letters. I hope the goods are in fair enough condition to travel well, as I will be transporting them as quickly as I can rather than a drawn-out carriage ride. _

_ I trust you have heard of the terrible fire here in Edo, and that you will understand why I will probably not make my way northwards for at least a few weeks here. My duties here are of greater care to me than the safe arrival of my property. My mind rests easy knowing that you are caring for them in my absence, and that you would sooner die than see them come to harm. _

_ Should their maker arrive in Fujimi and demand their return, however, I hope you will set him to rights that his claim to them has long been forsaken. He was, after-all, the one who put them up for sale when he sent them to Fujimi. _

_ I look for your next letter eagerly, and I hope that you also look for mine with such emotion. _

_ Your father _


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: Now, you can't have a Naruto story without ramen in my personal opinion, but unfortunately back in the day they didn't call it 'ramen.' They didn't even have ramen in the 1650s! Ramen didn't appear as its own thing until the 19th century or so it seems. Before people just ate soba or udon and such if they were going to have soupwithnoodles. I considered fudging things but…No. You can't make me. My integrity is already quite miffed at what I'm planning to do in a few chapters.
> 
> Funfact: Usually shipwrecked sailors were just executed on the spot, unless they shipwrecked somewhere near Nagasaki or Osaka. Then they only might get executed on the spot, they might win the lottery and get sent to Dejima to catch a ship…somewhere else.
> 
> Funfact: The shichi-go-san festival, as a coming-of-childhood-festival, from like the 12th century. It started among the nobility and then filtered its way down through the ranks in society. By the 17th century it was a samurai tradition, and by the 19th it was even tradition among the non-elite and peasants.
> 
> Funfact: Shichi-go-san means 'seven-five-three' and was celebrated when a boy turned three or five, or when a girl turned three or seven. The children were dressed up in fancy kimono, and boys were allowed to wear hakama for the first time. Girls changed out a simple cord for an obi to tie their clothing shut, too. In the 1600s children were also allowed to grow their hair out after their 3rd birthday, because up until then their heads had been kept shaved bald. No, I'm not making this up.
> 
> Funfact: Geta, like Jiraiya wears in the manga and anime, were still sometimes worn by men. But only by weird men apparently from what I could find. They used to be fairly normal, but fell out of style by 1600—for men, I must stress. So there is a little fudging here, but hopefully you'll all catch on to why I fudged it.
> 
> Funfact: Women during this time wore their hair differently based on if they were married or not, rather than a ring or something.
> 
> Funfact: I fudged things a bit with the "taking Asuma out to get smashed," part but that is something that actually happens. It was too fun not to include as something carried as a time-honored tradition. And, you know, plot.
> 
> Funfact: If Asuma had a son, then that son could be controlled by the Sarutobi clan like Asuma himself. If he had a daughter then he could have her marry out of the clan and be "free."
> 
> Funfact: Poorer samurai and their families "took in work," to add to their income. That's what Sakura is doing with the commissions from the villagers. It became increasingly common in the 18th century and many samurai did so in the 19th century as the entire system put in by the Tokugawa broke down. By the 19th century, most samurai were bureaucrats who worked as clerks or the like. They still knew their way around a sword, but samurai from the 1500s and 1600s wouldn't recognize them.
> 
> Funfact: In the mid-1600s Portuguese and Spanish missionaries sometimes smuggled themselves into Japan to try and find out what was happening to Japanese Christians. They usually were pretty horrified at what they found.
> 
> Funfact: There actually were a few Japanese citizens who travelled all the way to Europe, and apparently had families while they were there. There is the surname Japon in Spain referencing the descendants of Japanese men travelling with a Japanese embassy to the Vatican.
> 
> Funfact: Look up Hasekure Tsunenaga, he was a pretty awesome dude.

Sakura didn't miss him immediately—in fact it was almost like Kakashi was out fussing over his rice paddies rather than on his way to the capitol. She cleaned the house, putting things away from where they'd been discarded in the mad dash of packing yesterday. Sai was out of the house, ghosting after Tenzou like a lost child after Tenzou gave him the barest hint of permission to do so—their guest was nearly himself once more. It seemed he had been a silent and biddable person. He was different from Asuma who was opinionated and stolid, or Kakashi who went with the flow of things but whose voice was clearly heard.

Instead, Sakura missed Kakashi as she tried to go to sleep that night. Although it was a little different, she combed her hair and laid out her bedding just fine. The blankets had warmed up well, too, so that wasn't the heart of the problem. Sakura lay on her side looking up at the dimly lit ceiling, one hand reaching across to where Kakashi normally lay his head. And it was then that she  missed him, because she realized that the room was dim and not dark—because Kakashi was the one who blew out the lamp when they went to bed.

After she realized this and blew out the flame, Sakura wondered if she would wake up cold. But she kept her tears at bay because she wasn't alone in her shock and pain—Asuma had more family in Edo than just his cousin, it seemed, as did Tenzou. The two men even had to worry about getting the rice crop planted in time, despite the help Asuma had hired for them. He refused to hear of either woman helping out—Kurenai because she seemed to be only inches from birth every day, and Sakura because of Sarutobi's refusal to choose anyone but Kakashi to look for Iruka.

It stemmed from a personal feud he had with his uncle, and Sakura chose to take the gift for what it was—Asuma had hired the men, put them up in a room in the town, fed them, and supervised them. He refused to take a single coin from Sakura for it as well. The rice paddies were fully planted before Kakashi had been gone a week, and Sakura's carefully saved money was preserved.

So Sakura either willed herself not to cry, or was just too busy for it. Her parents had responded to Kakashi's letter quickly—they would both travel to Fujimi after a few days, and Masaki would return to Iimori periodically to care for his business. When they'd arrived, five days after Kakashi had left for Edo, Sakura had managed to smile at her parents. Their presence had initially strengthened her resolve that everything would be okay, that Kakashi's absence wasn't the end of the world.

She didn't cry until an offhand remark from her mother pushed her off the edge.

Her mother had taken over cooking from the start, letting Sakura focus on making a kimono for Sai as well as repairs on Kakashi's clothing—it was difficult to get him to admit it when his  tabi needed mending, let alone his actual  garments. His absence was actually going to do wonders for his clothing. Sakura sat in the main room with her sewing, her mother fussing over both her and Kurenai. No, Sakura didn't cry until something her mother said during an unimportant conversation pushed her to it.

"You know, Sakura, you could have it much harder—Kakashi could be in your father's profession, and be away traveling every other week. Masaki was gone for probably half of my pregnancy, you know."

As she bawled into her mother's shoulder, Sakura knew the truth of the statement. Married life for most people involved weeks, months, even years of separation—whereas in nearly a year, Kakashi had rarely left her side. She knew that she was lucky, but it was hard to call herself that in the middle of mood swings, stinging cravings for umeboshi, nausea, and perpetual exhaustion, all of which she felt like she was facing alone. The rest of the day she had been sad and withdrawn, not even Tenzou gruffly trying to cheer her up did anything.

The next morning as she coaxed her stomach into letting her eat—something her mother had made for her—Sakura came to a decision. She wasn't going to be a deadweight—she wasn't allowed to help with the planting because of Asuma, she wasn't allowed to cook, and many other small things, but she would find a way to make herself useful whether those around her liked it or not.

* * *

 

He decided to keep an eye on the young man, for everyone's sakes. So Kakashi took the thin futon they'd had the yellow-haired man sleeping on downstairs and moved it up into the lofted room on the second floor. There he'd be mostly safe from prying eyes during the day, and at night Kakashi tried to teach him how to talk. He was quick to grasp "good morning," among other pleasant nothings—already having a functional understanding of "sorry."

Kakashi decided to call the boy "Kamaboko," after he tried to eat an entire roll of the stuff—and succeeded. Inoue-san suggested they call him "Naruto," after the individual slices, and they'd coined a name for him—Kamaboko Naruto. It stuck so well because of how fast he ate, and the fact that the cured fish paste was usually the only thing they could get him to eat with his soup and rice—he couldn't stomach much else. Kakashi wrote, in his letter to Sakura, that he had never seen one so finicky. He didn't ask her how she was faring—he'd realized on the road that she hadn't been eating much in the mornings, and that she avoided serving certain dishes if she possibly could. If he'd been paying attention to her instead of other things, he might have noticed sooner. And there was the possibility that her response wouldn't be of good news, and Kakashi didn't want to get his hopes up by prying.

"Kakashi, you have—" and then gibberish. Kakashi looked up from where he was writing to peer at Naruto. They'd had a discussion earlier that day about his new name—he had it in his head that they were going to call him something  completely unpronounceable, and they'd explained that no, they were going to call him Kamaboko Naruto. He sighed—the young man was nothing if not indomitable. He mixed what words he knew with whatever it was he normally spoke, determined to be understood.

"I have what?" Naruto looked frustrated for a few moments, gesturing at his left hand grandiosely. Kakashi didn't let even a smirk cross his face—it was hilarious, but amusement was not helpful to teaching Naruto how to speak.

"Inoue-san and Kanna-san—Kanna-san. You have Kanna-san?" Kakashi stared at him for a long moment, working out what Naruto meant by that before it clicked.

"A wife? Yes, she's far away though.  Wife , Naruto,  wife . I have  a wife ." he said the words slowly, gesturing that Naruto should repeat after him. Once he'd grasped the words (mostly, his accent was atrocious), Kakashi  did give him an encouraging smile. "Her name is Sakura.  Sakura . Kakashi's wife is  Sakura ." Naruto dutifully repeated him, and Kakashi left him to mull over the words on his own—letting people think through a problem on their own was often far more rewarding for them than being hand-held throughout the process.

He reached over to his small travelling pouch and pulled out his papers, kept carefully in a well-wrapped packet. As he untied it, Naruto tromped his way over to his side—among everything else that was foreign, the young man was  extremely loud in  everything he did. Among the permission notes from Sarutobi-sama to travel to Edo, his identifying documents proving he was a samurai, and blank sheets for letter writing—among all that, was a small portrait Sai had given him before he'd left. It was of Sakura and himself, a tiny copy of the larger portrait he'd done for them. The picture was carefully done, and Kakashi felt it was a good likeness of them both.

Naruto took it with care and inspected it in the dim light of the lamp.

"Sakura—" followed by gibberish, but an excited kind of gibberish with a lot of gesturing towards himself. He pointed at the hints of green used to color Sakura's eyes, as well as her soft pink hair, while pointing at his own eyes and grabbing at his hair.

Kakashi didn't know how to tell Naruto that Sakura didn't even speak Chinese, let alone whatever Naruto babbled on in. Neither did he know how to tell Naruto that Sakura was thought to be a demon—and that they were going to try to pass Naruto off as one as well in the case that he was discovered. It probably wouldn't work, but it was worth a shot.

* * *

 

"Sakura-san, there's someone to see you," Tenzou's voice called from the hallway. Sakura looked up from her stitching at her companions—her mother and Kurenai. They were typically her only visitors because she disliked the village and the villagers disliked her—she had thought it would always be that way. She put down the half-finished kimono—for Sai, who looked ridiculous in his taken-in former-yukata-kimono—and stood up, brushing a few lingering threads from her clothing.

"You can see them in, Tenzou," she said as she went into the main room to put on hot water. With so few people ever formally visiting the house, she could always offer them tea because she always had some to spare.

She barely suppressed a double-take when she saw who her guests were—the innkeeper's wife and her daughter-in-law. And, wriggling against his grandmother's hold, was a quiet little boy of no more than three. Sakura vaguely remembered the boy and his mother from a year ago—she had smiled at them from across the room when they were at the inn, but the young mother had seized her arms around her baby and left the room immediately.

"Taeko-san, Ito-san, it is pleasant to see you," she said softly with a gentle bow. The two women bowed as well before Taeko, the innkeeper's wife, started in on why they were paying her a visit. Sakura was fairly sure they were supposed to go through a few more pleasantries, but she wasn't exactly sure what those were—she'd been raised with the same standards as her guests after-all.

"Sakura-san, this is of course an overdue visit. Your father has stayed in our inn enough over the years that it was remiss of us not to offer his daughter a proper welcome in town. Why we haven't should remain in the past, because it was not a polite reason," she shot a look at her daughter-in-law which almost had  Sakura cowering.

"We apologize for our family's behavior, Sakura-san," Ito said in a small voice, her head bowed.

"I…appreciate the sentiment, but I admit that I fail to see why the three of you would travel an hour out of town to offer such an apology when a letter would have sufficed. It is a long journey for two women, an even longer one for as little boy as…." She led the question of the boy's name, she felt that Ito would withdraw from the conversation if Sakura were too forthright.

"It is precisely  because of little Hayate that we've come," Taeko said when Ito remained silent. "He's going to turn three in a few months, and our family wants you to make his shichi-go-san outfit. Ito has purchased the materials already, and we will pay you for your time of course." Sakura couldn't speak for several long moments, she was in shock. Her first visit from a villager and it was a  commission for an important coming-of-age celebration.

"I don't understand why you would come to me, surely there are other women with a better command of the needle," she started before Ito bent forward in a bow, interrupting Sakura during her minute pause.

"My husband and I saw your embroidery work on the clothing your guest, Sai, wore to town last week. We were both impressed, and he told me that he would like you to make Hayate's outfit. It was not polite of me to wait so long to come, as my mother-in-law has already told you. But I am here now, and would like you to make my son's outfit for us."

"And we wanted to get our order in before everyone else took up your time with their own orders—there are at least three other women who are boasting that they are going to commission you for their children," Taeko butted in after her daughter before Sakura could even respond.

The house was silent around them, but she knew that silence to be unnatural—Sakura was sure that her mother and Kurenai were listening in from the hallway, and Tenzou was just outside the house on the porch. She had a rather large audience for this rather small favor. But it was an important favor, because a little boy only turned three once in his life—and this little boy in particular was the heir of a rather prominent Fujimi business. His shichi-go-san outfit needed to be of special importance.

"Of course I will make Hayate's outfit for you, when do you need it?"

She'd found her niche—fixing and repairing people's clothing wasn't strenuous, wasn't something she had to learn, it was something she was good at. It wasn't something amazing like healing, but it was a start. It was hers.

* * *

 

Kakashi had finished his letters to Sakura and Sarutobi-sama two days after arriving in Edo—he had had to word each of them quite carefully. Sakura's because he had endeavored to tell her about his new roommate Naruto, and Sarutobi-sama's because it was hard to list the rampant destruction of the city. There was also the matter that he had found the Sarutobi clan compound. It had burned to the ground, but passerby had told him that it had been evacuated on the first day of the fire—all Kakashi had to do now was  find Iruka and Anko, or at least find out if they had made for Fujimi on their own. He refused to believe they were dead.

So it was with his bundle of letters that he went out that day, looking for a courier traveling north on a road that went through Fujimi. Eventually he'd found a trustworthy one who came highly recommended by the few samurai he'd become acquainted with.

"And when you get to Fujimi you must deliver it to Sarutobi-sama himself, not an aide, not a servant, not a family member. The daimyo himself—tell him it's from Hatake Kakashi about Umino Iruka." He was just paying the courier when someone came up at his elbow and bowed shortly. Kakashi turned and bowed as well, but waited for this stranger to speak. The courier bobbed his head shortly and took off like a shot—Kakashi had just paid him double after all, and traveling at double speed was completely warranted at that price.

"You're from Fujimi?"

"…Yes, I am. I'm here on orders of the daimyo—"

"Did you know a woman named Rin?" There was a nervous hesitance to the man's demeanor, as though he wasn't sure if he should even be bringing the topic up.  A sympathizer then .

"Yes, she and her husband moved here to Edo last summer," Kakashi said

"They," he glanced around briefly before continuing, "they stayed with my family shortly after some…trouble. I did all I could to get them out of the city when my family's compound burned down, I don't know if they did or not. I would have kept silent, but you said you were from Fujimi and everyone was saying that the north must be full of…full of…"he searched for words, and floundered.

"Friends?" Kakashi offered. It was a harmless word, really, and easy to react to in a forbidden conversation.

" Conspirators ," the man finally choked out, as though realizing that he too fit the definition. He rushed on, ignoring Kakashi's startled look, all while staring intently over Kakashi's shoulder.

"If the north is full of conspirators, and the three of you are from Fujimi then…then…" Kakashi turned around to look down the avenue his companion was staring down, obviously frightened out of his wits. A tall, burly man was clomping his way towards them. His hair was raucous despite being pulled back into a reluctant topknot, and it was whiter than Kakashi's. Age lines carved their way down, around, and over his face, making his visage truly terrifying despite his unfortunate choice in footwear and his equally unfortunately styled hair. Momentarily forgetting whatever it was this other samurai was trying to tell him, Kakashi asked in a hushed voice who this man was.

"Advisor Gama, he is the shogun's right hand man—and he deals with the kirishitan problem, and foreigners." Kakashi's back went rigid at the sight of this lord—one of the highest in the government, in the land even because his rank was higher than some lesser imperial lineages. They watched for a little while longer as the man's retainers tried to coax him back to his carriage, until he was so near that Kakashi and his companion had to throw themselves to their knees to bow.

His geta clomped to a stop near their heads, as their foreheads nearly touched the ground.

"You, with the white hair—what's your name? Where you do you hail from?" Kakashi unbent his arms a little to raise his face from the ground so his words would be heard. The sounds from the street seemed muted now. Kakashi couldn't even hear the rustle of the breeze over his own heartbeat and the well of silence that engulfed his ears.

"Fujimi district, my lord, my name is Hatake Kakashi." There was a beat before Gama spoke, as though he were choosing his words carefully.

"Here to find family?"

"To find Sarutobi-sama's son, my lord."

There was a long pause during which Kakashi nearly drove himself mad wondering what caused it. Perhaps because Gama had had to deal with the entire Fujimi branch of the Uchiwa family? Or, even more paranoid, had word of a "pink haired demon woman," made its way even to this man's ear?

"And you, where do you hail from, what's your name?" Kakashi tried to contain his sigh of relief as Gama's attention turned towards his unlikely companion.

"My family lives in Edo, Lord Gama, we are retainers for the castle. My name is Omura Nobu."

"Hmm. And your reason for being so far from your home?"

"Looking for horses lost in the fire, one of my servants believes that they escaped the stables rather than being stolen. I was giving this man advice on who to use as a courier."

"A believable enough story, Omura Nobu. Where are each of you staying?"

"I am staying with my wife's family, in their home near the river," Nobu said quickly, fear touching his words. Kakashi refused slump as he realized what was going to happen—Gama was likely just questioning random people he encountered, with the plan of interviewing them later for some reason known only to himself. Naruto would likely be discovered then and there was no telling what would happen to Kakashi or his hosts.

But lying would make whatever happened  worse .

"I am staying with a family whose home did not completely burn in the fire," with which he gave directions to Inoue-san's house as well as what time he planned on returning that day. There was an appreciative sound from their interrogator before he moved on down the street. Kakashi and Nobu waited a long moment before standing. As they subtly stretched out their aching elbows and knees, their eyes met.

It had certainly been a close one.

* * *

 

_ My dear son, _

_ While I was walking through Uncle's garden I ran into a retainer who had lost something—something you mentioned he had lost, the last time we spoke. I am going to help him, of course, and may perhaps obtain his aid in transporting my package to Edo when the time comes. When I finally tear myself away from work here, I will be bringing with me two packages addressed to you. For some reason they were sent here instead. _

_ I fear for when I see you, my son, that you won't recognize me—for now I can distinguish between the old-elderly and the young-elderly. Unfortunately, according to Uncle, I fall into the former rather than the latter despite all my protestations.  _

_ Lastly, the journey to pick up my goods has been further delayed. While many of our family's holdings survived the fire, a great many others did not. I have been called to help in the rebuilding—imagine, putting an old man like myself to work. My task would be so much easier if I could travel to pick up my things, but as you know that is impossible for at least another few weeks. In the meantime, keep them safe as ever my son. _

_ Your father _

* * *

 

_ Tenzou's voice calling out from the yard that she had a visitor was still startling, but after a week Sakura was starting to get used to it. After Taeko and Ito visited, there was a scramble to commission the rest of Sakura's time. In the midst of the rush, Sakura was also paid a visit by Sarutobi-sama. Her mother made tea for them, and then went back to Sakura's embroidery room to sit with Masaki—Sakura's father was writing out the contracts which would transfer his business and his Iimori home to one of his employees. Pakkun, quite happily lazy in Kakashi's absence, snored at her side. He had been far too small to form any real attachment to Sarutobi, and so the man's presence did nothing to excite him. _

"This, I believe, is for you," he said softly, after she had served each of them. In his hand was a carefully folded sheet of paper. Sakura reached between them and took it, tracing a fingertip over her name. She could fee Sarutobi's studying gaze on her as she briefly bowed in thanks before tucking the letter into her obi. It would probably be impolite to read it in front of him.

"Is he…"

"No, he told me that he hasn't yet found my son. The letter is dated three days ago, the courier delivered it early this morning. I have him staying on for another day or so at my estate, if you wish me to include your reply with my own letter," his old eyes were kind. Sakura looked down quickly, just catching a glimpse at the paper which peeked out from where she'd put it. She didn't want to make him wait, or to have him witness her reactions to the letter, and was about to say so before the shoji leading to the garden was roughly opened by Tenzou.

In the doorway stood Asuma, holding his wife in his arms. Sarutobi stared up at his nephew in apparent shock, while Sakura stared—quite startled—at the sight of her neighbors. Kurenai had her arms crossed over her chest, put out at the fact that her husband hadn't let her walk. Asuma was pale and sweat dotted his forehead—he seemed to have carried Kurenai the entire way. Tenzou, who had opened the shoji for them heaved a long sigh. He stood up and tugged Asuma into the house, followed by Sai who ghosted behind him. He called softly for Ume to come at once, as Sai coaxed Asuma into setting Kurenai on her own two feet.

"But it's too early—" Sakura started to say, at last figuring out just what was going on.

"Babies come early, and they come late, Sakura, that is the way of them—only they know when they are ready and you had best get used to it. Come, help me," Ume said before she turned her attention to Kurenai, whispering some encouragement or other when the woman groaned a little. Sakura bowed to Sarutobi briefly and stood up, following her mother. Kurenai had asked just days ago if she could have her child in the Hatake household, and to have Sakura and Ume's help—she could ask for attendants from the main Sarutobi estate, but she barely knew them, she'd said.

Masaki saw the three women coming into the room and immediately knew their purpose—he left with all haste.

"Have you been in pain long?"

"It started this morning, but I thought it was just the baby being temperamental—again. Asuma overreacted entirely, but he's been stressed for…Ahh," Kurenai grimaced, holding her hands on her back as she limped across the room. Sakura went to her side and offered an arm to lean on. Kurenai squeaked in pain every so often, not bothering to hide it from them as she had her husband. She felt a bit silly asking, but she was curious.

"Now what do we do?" Ume smiled as she got out several old, worn yukata for them to change into.

"We wait, and we walk. Come, it's best to be dressed properly before things get messy. Kurenai, you too dear."

The voices of the five men were muted, but seemed to be getting louder in a bit of an argument. Finally there was silence, but it went largely unnoticed. Ume was asking the strangest of questions, and Sakura was trying to keep up. Had there been a bit of wet that morning? Pain last night? Despite her composure, Ume seemed to be under not a little stress—she had helped with a few births in Iimori, but not many.

"Sakura-san, Ume-san, Sarutobi-sama would like to know if he should send for a midwife for his niece." Tenzou's voice was clear in that pained manner he sometimes adopted. He usually did it when he was correct and Kakashi wouldn't see reason. Sakura glanced at her mother who looked at Kurenai who nodded in obvious relief.

"That would be welcome, I believe, Tenzou. Thank you," Sakura called, adding, "And if you could make us something to eat, I think we will be here for awhile."

On the other side of the shoji Tenzou's shoulders sank a little in relief—he had been moments from shamefully taking refuge with the women, safely away from their guests. But with this he would get both Sarutobi men out of the house, as well as Sai and Sakura's father. Hopefully. Sai was like a waifish limpet most days, following Tenzou throughout the day and helping with the chores as he could. A waifish limpet cursed with curiosity, he amended. Sai must have lived his entire life in the city before coming to Fujimi—or wherever he had been bound, northward—because he was completely ignorant of just about everything to do with a farm.

Sai didn't know how much water should be maintained in the cistern. He didn't know how to catch a fish—and all of Tenzou's reluctant efforts to teach him had been for nought—and he barely knew how to garden let alone  weed . He must have made quite a living as a painter to be so utterly incompetent with the rest of day to day life. It was a wonder that no one had come looking for him.

"Kurenai-san would like for that," he said after returning to the main room. Sarutobi-sama made a happy noise and clapped his nephew on the shoulder bracingly. Tenzou knew Asuma well enough that he didn't have to  see his friend twitch to know it happened. He didn't laugh, but it was a struggle.

"Well, Nephew, I think that I need to take you for a drink. And of course young Kakashi's father-in-law, and the guest."

"I…do think that I should stay here, with Tenzou—by this evening Asuma will be a father, he should be with other fathers," Sai tried to defer, and Tenzou glanced over at him. Sai could be positively  asocial sometimes. Here was the daimyo himself offering a drink, and the boy wouldn't take it. Tenzou's mouth twitched in the barest of smiles. He was going to have an afternoon free of that boy if he had to pull someone's tooth out. Even for two hours, just  two blissful question-free hours.

"Sakura-san mentioned this morning that she would have to pick up several bolts of cloth from town soon, perhaps Sai could go to town for them and return with the midwife once she's found?"

"That is an excellent idea—Sai, you agree of course?" Sarutobi-sama's voice was pleasant, and indicated that Sai had a choice. But everyone in the room knew otherwise.

"Of course, although I do need the money required for such a purchase," Sai said.

"That will be no problem, I'm sure Uncle is more than willing to make the cloth a gift—for me, Uncle," Asuma's voice was hardly sweet, much more baiting than anything else. There was a long pause and Tenzou wondered if perhaps Kurenai's baby would grow up an orphan on account of Asuma's tone.

"Yes, of course, Asuma, if that is what you want. Now, that child won't wait forever," the cheer in Sarutobi-sama's voice gradually returned, until he was nearly jovial as he ushered his new guests out of the house. Tenzou was soon left alone, and the sounds of Sarutobi-sama's retinue faded until there were only the hushed voices of the women in the other room. Kurenai was growling about something Ume or Sakura had said, while the two other women laughed softly.

He put a pot of water over the coals of the fire before going to the butsudan room with a smoking piece of tinder in his hand. The incense wafted up and through the room as he prayed. Years and years ago, Sakumo had told him to treat the Hatake butsudan as his own, and had taught him the death-names of important family ancestors. Sakumo had always considered Tenzou to be nearly his own son, the one he would have had if his wife had lived.

With that sobering thought in mind, Tenzou asked that Kurenai's child came into the world easily for both it and for its mother. It would break Asuma if Kurenai were to not survive childbirth—the woman herself was strong, she would carry on if Asuma somehow died young. But not Asuma, who was brittle after carving out a life for himself that was separate from his clan and his duties there. He also prayed that the baby would be born a girl—a girl who could marry out of the Sarutobi clan, a girl who could escape the life that Asuma himself had been forced into. Tenzou knew too well how it felt to be roughly fit into a mold by one's betters, and he didn't wish the same to be visited upon another son of the Sarutobi family.

* * *

 

He knew that his constant presence was annoying, which was why Tenzou had almost forced him out of the house. He didn't appreciate it, but he could see why the brown haired man had done it. Sarutobi-sama had left his litter (and his litter bearers) at the house—they were unable to  all travel in such a manner, and he was trying to reach out to his nephew.

He didn't know much about the relationship between the daimyo and Asuma, but he knew it wasn't a good one. It didn't take a genius to realize something was amiss. Most daimyo made intricate plans involving the control of their heirs, and always wanted those heirs to live in utmost safety. It was why the shogunate had so easily gotten control of every daimyo in the country—what safer place for a lord's wife and children than the new city, the new capital of the Tokugawa? Asuma himself was a secondary heir, the eldest of the nearest branch family if he wasn't much mistaken.

And yet Asuma was living a three hour walk from the main Sarutobi estate. It was highly unnatural.

He walked beside Masaki, the nervously inclined merchant. A man with a level head on his shoulders, yes, but living his life just a little on edge. He didn't much blame the Iimori man—surely having a wife descended from foreigners was stressful enough, he was surprised the merchant wasn't as white-haired as Kakashi.

Masaki left the group once they were in the village to look for the midwife—he'd traveled through Fujimi enough to know who to talk to. The two Sarutobi men, however, went to the drinking house. Their presence startled the owners who scrambled to provided adequate seating and service to the daimyo, nearly tripping over themselves to please him. Asuma's own anxious attitude likely did nothing for them.

This left him free to slip away to the post, where a letter from his master awaited him. He had bribed the postman to not let news of his correspondence slip—Sakura always gave him a little more than what things actually cost. He knew why of course. She was accounting for prejudice, for the shops charging more because they could. She didn't need to know that he quietly threatened one or two people on her behalf—she'd used her magic to heal him, heal her husband's eye, but he wasn't sure she would repay evil with kindness if they understood his drift. He used some of the saved money to bribe silence where it was needed, and the rest he slipped back into her coffers.

He wondered sometimes if she noticed, but asking would be revealing and he was better than that. In the meantime, he had a reply to write before Masaki came back.

* * *

 

Rumors, just rumors everywhere. Kakashi came home late each evening, exhausted. He was a twenty minute walk from the burned ruin of the Sarutobi compound, and thus twenty minutes from anyone who would know anything about where Iruka had gone. They'd told him they'd evacuated on the first day of the fire—but after that there were no good clues. His hosts could offer him little help, they had no business with the powerful and they liked it that way.

He was on his own, for the most part. He posted notices at all of the entrances to the city, and then set himself to scouring the lists of the deceased. There wasn't really anything else he could do short of wandering aimlessly through the burned out ruins of Edo. It was a full week before he got any letters—Sarutobi-sama giving him hints and suggestions at who could have taken Iruka and Anko in, as well as expressing despair at the destruction of the capitol.

Sakura's letter was much more exciting. He had saved it until late in the evening, when his hosts were asleep and he had distracted Naruto with copying letters—the boy had to have something to occupy his time and learning to write was time-consuming enough to do so. The paper of the letter was folded around a dried strand of rice grass, which made him smile in spite of himself. The rice had been planted, properly even. The letter itself was informal and intimate—Sakura wasn't in the habit of writing letters which might be read by a third party.

_ Kakashi , _

_ The day your letter came, Asuma and Kurenai's baby came too. They are naming her Ayame, after Asuma's mother. I'd like to say that she is sweet, but she is nearly always asleep when I see her. Asuma has been giddy ever since. I hope that you don't wander around with that look on your face this winter, you'll look silly and I'll be too busy to keep you from it.  _

_ I'm quite busy at the moment. Our guest seems to have advertised my needlework to the villagers and I have five shichi-go-san commissions to finish. I'm lucky to have Mother here, because one of the children, a little boy, seems to have given me a bit of a cough. I'll be fine within the week in all likelihood.  _

_ Imagine, if we save enough this year—with commissions and the increase in koku—we could perhaps make some improvements on the house. Our family has nearly outgrown it  now, you know . _

_ We miss you, even though the little one doesn't know it, and hope that you come home soon.  _

_ Sakura _

* * *

 

When the northeast coast came into view and they finally stopped for what seemed the first time in months, Shisui knelt down on the sand and gave thanks for their deliverance. They had made what normally was an eight day trip in six, and hadn't encountered anyone on the road for whom Nobu's documents weren't enough. But that was not all. For surreptitiously near the cliffs glowed a merry fire—surrounded by men in the brown robes of priests. Out in the mists in the small natural harbor a huge, ungainly creature of a boat floated. The escape that Nobu had wished for them had been granted.

Rin voiced her thanks as well, and before they started towards the priests he held her. She ran her fingers through his hair gently, and Shisui could tell from her hiccups that she was fighting tears. He had one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, while the other supported her back—his fingers just brushing the nape of her neck. They would be free at last, to escape the constant threat of death which had loomed over them for most of their lives. It was a  relief .

In the small campsite four priests and a few other men stood up to greet them. One older priest spoke a little Japanese, enough for Shisui to communicate what had happened. The men had conferred for a little together before coming to a decision. They had hoped to find others, but from what Shisui told them…that was neither feasible nor useful. They would take Shisui and Rin with them when they left, which would be soon.

He wanted his wife to be safe, he wanted to freely worship—after that Shisui truly  didn't care where they ended up—he placed all of his faith in God to deliver them somewhere they could finally be safe.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: Emperors during this time served tenures of a decade or so, becoming emperor in their mid-teens and then retiring in their late twenties, early thirties, and then just kinda hung out for the rest of their lives. There was a great deal of power-play to get daughters and second sons married into the imperial family, especially in the 17th century with the Tokugawa. 
> 
> Funfact: While you can't make me put a beard on Kakashi, you cannot stop me from putting one on Iruka. There. And I'm only being consistent, if you'll remember Sarutobi's nearly-first-words to Kakashi waaaay back in like chapter 7. 
> 
> Funfact: The shogun's castle was actually heavily defended during the fire, but it was at the cost of basically everyone else's homes. And the darn thing STILL caught fire! Just not burned-down-to-ashes caught fire. It was, however, enough of a reason for the shogun at the time to decide he wanted a different castle, a new castle. A black castle. Because black castles are awesome. Ask anyone.
> 
> SubFunfact: Castles seem to have been built in usually white or black, and for this story I am choosing that the original castle was a white one. What kind of pansy wants to live in a white castle? Not Ietsuna!
> 
> Funfact: People coming to visit you or had messages for you would stand outside your door loudly announcing their presence until you answered the door. They only pounded on it/knocked when they thought you weren't coming or had died or something.
> 
> Funfact: Litter-bearers did this too, as well as doing it during sankin kotai (the ritual, super expensive trip daimyo had to make to Edo every other year). The former was so that no one got run down in the street too badly, and so that they all knew where they were going, if they were turning, etc. The latter was so that everyone in the street could find somewhere else to be rather than throw themselves bodily to the ground.
> 
> Funfact: You were supposed to dress up when you met with higher-ranking people, especially if they were a lord. Exceptions were probably made sometimes.
> 
> Funfact: Horses go about 8mph at a trot, which seems—to my cursory research—the ideal "let's go somewhere," speed for traveling by horse. With rest breaks, they can cover 20-30 miles in a day. So I mashed that together here with having fresh horses + lunch + breaks and got 40 miles in one day. If that bothers you, please remember that this story isn't meant to be a handbook about traveling by horse. 
> 
> Funfact: If you know about Anjin-sama and his life, then I hope you aren't too worried for Naruto.
> 
> Funfact: Before modern antibiotics, hospitalized patients with pneumonia had a 30% mortality rate. I shudder to think of what it might have been in the 17th century. 
> 
> Funotherstuff: Remember me harping on earlier in the story about letters and how long they took to get places? It mattered! I promise!

It was the first morning in a long time that anyone was able to smile during breakfast. Naruto was trying to tell jokes to Kanna, and failing rather terribly at it. He couldn't quite get the punch-lines right, despite Kanna's help and guidance, so the amusement mostly came from his ineptitude. Outside on the street the distant yells of litter-bearers could be faintly heard, coming closer along the road. Inoue's family lived on a larger street, with a lot of traffic between the estates outside of Edo and the aristocratic compounds within it, so the sound was ignored for the most part.

Inoue and his children were finishing their food, while Kakashi tried to convince himself to eat. He wasn't looking forward to his day of searching the city, going through elite neighborhoods and asking the nobles he found there if they'd seen the Sarutobi heir, Umino Iruka and his wife.

Until he found either them or discovered the fact that they were dead, he was to remain in Edo. Right as he finished sipping the last of his weak miso (anything other than Sakura's miso was a poor imitation), a courier announced his presence outside, loudly for the entire street to hear. With a look rather than a word, Inoue's sons grabbed Naruto and stopped up his shout, dragging him back to the ruined back end of the house. Kanna's hands shot across the table to hide the extra setting, while Kakashi and Inoue shuffled their bowls around the table so that the gap the foreigner had left wasn't so prominent.

The courier announced himself once again, tapping hesitantly at the shoji.

"We are coming, we hear you," Inoue called, getting up. Kakashi's heart pounded a bit louder as Naruto struggled against his sudden detainment, knocking into the wall a few times. Kanna ducked her head and he thought he heard her utter a curse. The sound from the back of the house stopped after a garbled argument of some sort. One of the brothers came out and sat down stiffly at the table, his shoulders rigid.

"Hatake-sama, the message is for you."

The man outside was a personal courier, for an elite. Kakashi's stomach clenched around the meal he'd just barely finished.

"Hatake-sama, my lord requests your presence at the castle immediately," the man said with a small bow. Behind him, three dozen steps away, the litter-bearers set down their burden. They had the insignia of Shogun Ietsuna emblazoned on their clothing. The courier's clothes carried the same sign. Looking between the two, Kakashi wondered just what he'd done. Lord Gama's face floated up in his mind, and were he a lesser man Kakashi's shoulders would have sank. That man was probably the cause of this.

"I am not dressed properly to meet with a lord, I—"

"My lord is well aware of your station, and is understanding of it. He has ordered you brought to him in whatever manner I find you," the man glanced once at Kakashi, "and I find you dressed in clean clothing, your hair…attempted at, and your feet are soon-to-be-sandaled." Kakashi hesitated for barely a second longer before realizing that this man, despite not being his equal, was allowed to order him around. That he also probably had been given allowance to seize Kakashi if he were disinterested.

He was halfway tempted to make these people actually take him by force. But Naruto's plight of just minutes ago chastised him. Kakashi nodded once and went to get his sandals.

Kakashi hadn't travelled by litter for twenty years—he had occasionally traveled in one with Uchiwa Fugaku, on that trip so long ago to Edo. His apprenticeship to the Uchiwa lord was a point of pride for his father and himself—despite the Uchiwa family's unfortunate choice to practice that banned foreign religion, they had been good people. And he had learned the finer graces of higher-ranked samurai, something which Sakumo had always spoke of as a useful quality.

The bouncing wasn't easily ignored, however, and he sat ill at ease with himself. Kakashi didn't like this, it was something reserved for those in higher places in life than him. He was a poor nobody from the north, and he knew it. He had no choice, however.

Since he had little else to do he pulled Sakura's letter out from between the pages of his book. Her writing was beautiful, and it contained the most wonderful news. He felt so often that he was living some sort of myth, a legend of prosperity and happiness. He leaned back a little onto the wooden backrest, holding the paper to his chest as he closed his eyes to minimize the discomfort he felt from traveling on a litter sent by the shogun—unlikely—or sent by the shogun's advisor, Lord Gama. Quite likely.

They slowed as they approached the gates, just enough for the courier to flash their identification—Kakashi's eyes opened too late to see it, but the guards at the gate paled and waved them through. Most definitely Lord Gama had been the one to send for him.

The castle had been damaged slightly by the fire, he'd heard. Coming into the grounds, however, he could see where the fire had torn through gardens and the homes of high-ranking retainers. The ghostly image of flames licked at the white facades of the castle walls, and in some places the flames had claimed an entire wall or more. The people he saw there were less haggard than the peasants and lower-ranked samurai in the rest of the city, but there was a certain haunted look to them that was almost worse to see.

"Hatake-sama, we should arrive soon," the courier jogged easily alongside the litter, his breath saved until now as they travelled slower on the thoroughfares within the castle.

"Why did your master send for me with such urgency?"

"He did not say, Hatake-sama, merely that you should be much pleased with your visit here." They came to a stop shortly after that, and Kakashi put Sakura's letter back in his book and tucked them both away. The litter-bearers let him off, and then scurried away after a look from the courier. Kakashi, who had already formed the impression that the courier was not all that he appeared, squinted his eye minutely at his companion.

They paused at the steps, taking off their sandals, before going in. The building was fairly intact on the outside, and the interiors appeared undamaged—this had been the most heavily defended part of the castle, it would seem. Kakashi allowed himself to be led down several corridors, not bothering to remember his way out—strangers were not allowed to wander by themselves this deep within any castle, let alone  this castle. He felt assured of an escort out.

Whisking past hallways as they were, coupled with a desire not to seem overly curious, Kakashi couldn't have expected it.

* * *

 

Tenzou was worried. Sakura had been ill for more than a week now, and had only grown worse. Her coughing kept him awake late into the night, as much as she tried to hide it initially. It sounded like she was trying to cough something up, but just couldn't. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. The young woman was barely sleeping now, and was worryingly dizzy sometimes because of fever. Tenzou thought back, trying to determine what had caused her illness. They'd had so many faces in and out of this house recently that it was hard to put his finger on it, but finally he'd decided on the culprit.

It had been the little boy, the first one. The boy who coughed.

Tenzou lay on his side in the hallway next to Sakura's room—because Kakashi would kill him with his bare hands if he found Tenzou had been remiss in looking after the girl—and listened to Pakkun snuffle and whine while Sakura coughed. A few times last night and once so far this evening, he had heard her crying. She just couldn't stop coughing, and complained of a tight, heavy feeling in her chest.

He didn't worry so much for the unborn child, because  it was not the source of his master's recent happiness and prosperity. Sakura was. Kakashi would of course mourn if his wife miscarried because of this illness—but he would recover from it. He would self-destruct if the pink-haired young woman were to pass away suddenly. Especially if he had been away.

Ume had suggested that Sakura stay in a separate room, with the screen shut, whenever Kurenai visited. Sakura's mother did not want to prevent Kurenai human contact with her friends, but neither did she want to be responsible for the Sarutobi woman catching whatever it was that plagued Sakura. Ume aired out the entire house before Kurenai came over, and often kept a screen or two open to the outside air—it was spring, after all. Despite the hopeful atmosphere of both her household and the environment, Sakura continued to worsen. Ume had taken away the commissions Sakura had been working on, preferring to finish them for her and to let Sakura rest.

The treatment of and how they talked about her sickness was a crisis of conscience for Tenzou. He lay awake each night listening to the pink haired woman cough in the darkness of her room. She had only the family dog as a companion most of the time. It was agony, not being able to do anything for her, and everyone was against informing Kakashi.

However tonight he couldn't take it anymore. He decided that if Sakura had not improved within two or three days he was going to write to Kakashi. Sarutobi-sama would have to send another man to look for Iruka and Anko, because there was no way that Tenzou would allow his master's wife to perhaps die while he was away.

* * *

 

His knees hit the burnished wood floor just about the same time as two strong arms wrapped themselves around his body, the momentum of the other body carrying them both to the ground. Kakashi, having been grabbed from behind was barely able to even  try to break their fall, and since the other person landed on him he was completely winded. He couldn't fight them as they scrabbled to turn him on his back and Kakashi marveled, for a brief half second, at how fast Lord Gama had found out about his "demon" wife. This was obviously—

" Kakashi! " Somewhere in his breathless mind, Kakashi heard first Obito and then Shisui and then his eyes finally focused on the face above his.

"Iruka!" his cry was a bit of a gasp, since Iruka was practically sitting on him with his hands pressed down on Kakashi's chest. He could barely breathe. Kakashi's escort paused, with what was  not an indulgent smile on his face. And then his dazed brain swung back towards the man who was accidentally suffocating him. Kakashi had the sudden, strong desire to get back at someone for their prank.

He was fairly sure it was Lord Gama who should be on the receiving end of it, too.

"Jiraiya-sama said that he had run into someone I knew! Did my father send you? I hope he hasn't been too worried, I have been helping Jiraiya-sama get things in order. On the first day of the fire he took us in, saying the last place in the city that would ever burn would be the castle and he was right! Although now I owe him a favor, as I begged that he release prisoners from the jai—"

"I believe that Hatake-san would appreciate very much for this," the pause was meditative as well as teasing, "conversation to take place with both of you standing. He is turning alarmingly red, Iruka-san," Gama's voice boomed across the hallway. Kakashi turned dizzy eyes towards it, seeing the fuzzy outline of Iruka's wife, Anko, standing next to the tall old man. Ah. Now he knew who was really the culprit—of course she would do this to him.

Meanwhile, Iruka was trying to get up without kneeling or stepping on him. When they finally extricated themselves from their mess, Kakashi still felt dizzy. He had been here for two and a half weeks, losing hope by the day and then this  miracle of a practical joke. He couldn't be the least upset, this was  perfect .

"I knew instantly who you were here for when you said you were from Fujimi," Gama said as Kakashi patted Iruka's cheeks and shoulders to make sure he was real. He heard Sarutobi's words from a year ago in his mind as he took in Iruka's bearded face—with illegitimate sons it was sometimes a bit difficult to truly be sure of their parentage, but not so with Iruka. No one Kakashi had ever met had such thick facial hair which grew in such a distinctive pattern. If Sarutobi had ever had doubts about Iruka, those would have been quickly dispelled once that coarse beard took root.

"It took us two days to plan out what we were going to do," Anko said. She was worse of a trickster than Kakashi had ever been—marrying her had been running from a burning house into a forest fire.

"And we plan on leaving Edo for Fujimi within the week," Iruka finished, his eyes bright with hope and happiness. And of course he would be happy—his father had sent one of his best friends to search for him, and now he had been found. Kakashi crinkled his own eyes in happiness as well, because this meant he could go home to his farm and his family. He was also relieved that he would bring no bad news with him.

* * *

 

The castle was silent. His men reported to him every third hour that the shogun was still safe—Ietsuna was so young compared those he was expected to oversee, it was best that no one got any funny ideas. The boy had survived his childhood ascension to the position, and Jiraiya intended the boy to keep it. It was easier to run things when people weren't looking too hard at him.

He was sitting outside in his favorite courtyard, drinking sake. It was good sake, made in Kyoto—his men there said the emperor enjoyed it from time to time, and it pleased him to drink sake normally reserved only for the imperial family. It showed the places people had in the world. The small wooden cup he sipped from was his favorite, a good little square one. One of his friends in the north had had a set carved out of single blocks of wood, beautiful work. Years and years ago now.

It was a clear night, allowing weak moonlight to filter down to the rooftops. The night air was dense and woody. Woody in that recently-cleared smoke way because the city still stank of charred buildings and roasted flesh. He hadn't seen anything like it for decades, and even then it had been during the last rebellion—twenty years ago at least.

One of his men appeared out of the darkness of the rooftops surrounding his courtyard, silently flipping himself under the eave and down to the porch. Jiraiya's eyes flicked towards the man's movements, not his head—it was quite difficult to know if one had been spotted if no sign of acknowledgment was made. Turning his head even slightly towards the man would have given away his awareness, and Jiraiya was far better disciplined than that.

It was why Iemitsu had entrusted him with the care of Ietsuna, after-all.

"My lord," the younger man asked, a formality.

"Speak, son," Jiraiya said while he finished the rest of his current cup of sake. Really it was quite good, and he could see why the emperor enjoyed it. Although if an emperor was old enough to know what kind of sake he enjoyed, he had been emperor for quite long enough—the young man would have to retire soon.

"Orochimaru-sama has started to make preparations to leave Kyoto as of five days ago. He will have begun his journey here by yesterday at the latest. Your son says that Orochimaru-sama's intention is to appeal various charges against certain members of the Uchiwa clan when they come to trial in a few months." Jiraiya flipped over one of his little wooden cups and poured some still-steaming sake into both it and his own, indicating with a wink that his informant should have some.

As the other man lifted the cup to his lips and sipped just a moment after Jiraiya himself did, his eyes never stopped moving around the courtyard. There were at least five men hidden at various places in the shadows. Not because he felt insecure, but because he needed his top people to know many of the things he knew—Jiraiya never liked to leave his men uninformed. There was something to be said for blind trust, but he preferred mutual trust.

"You may tell your half-brother he has my thanks. Do you have any letters I ought to look at?"

"One, from your son in the north."

* * *

 

This letter was the exact bargaining chip that he needed. A perfect reason to retrieve the boy, a perfect reason to travel away from Edo during this hectic time, and it came exactly when he would have wanted it to. The white-haired samurai and the daimyo's son would be obliged to travel with him. He had sent his son north for this mission because he'd known the boy would complete it beautifully. The fire in Edo had at first been a rupture in his plans, but now—now he could get everything he wanted within a fortnight.

Jiraiya smiled an honest smile for the first time in what felt like months, despite the grins which he put on for the benefit of others. It was perfect, absolutely perfect. He flicked his fingers towards where he knew a man was stashed in the shadows, handing the letter off to them to be resealed and delivered in the morning. Actually…he would deliver it himself, he decided.

* * *

 

"Tenzou?" Sakura tried to make her voice heard above the rasp. She had been coughing so much, and getting just nothing for her efforts, she'd torn her voice to pieces. She was afraid to sleep, the infection pressing close to each breath she took—threatening to steal the next. She hated being awake, her lungs popping and crackling with every wheezing breath. Her fever had mostly broken which she was thankful for, but she could barely eat—nothing would stay down for very long, not even the thinnest of soup. Sakura's chest ached, her whole body ached, and it seemed like it would never end.

"Yes, Sakura?"

"Get…my mother…please." Sakura closed her eyes and tried to breathe properly, as futile as that seemed, until her mother's cool hands smoothed over her brow and cheeks. She cleared her throat a little, taking her mother's hand. It was dim in her room, with just her own lamp and Ume's—while outside in the hallway, Tenzou's lamplight glowed merrily on the rice paper of the shoji. Sakura knew it was paranoid, but she hadn't slept or really eaten in what felt like days and she knew that couldn't be healthy. And on top of it all she was just  so tired.

"Will you cut….a lock of my…" the hardest part to accept was to matter how deeply she breathed or prepared to speak, Sakura ran out of air before even a few words made it out. Her voice didn't even trail off so much as cut off abruptly as she tried to suck in another lungful of oxygen, "hair for Kakashi? Put one end in wax so that it stays together, please?" Ume's thumb stroked across her cheek once, her other hand tightening around Sakura's.

"Tenzou? Get us a knife, and melt some letter-wax as well," she said, not moving her hands from her daughter. Sakura hoped she would start to get better soon—that she got no worse, that she didn't  die . But if she did, she had resolved earlier, she was going to leave Kakashi with something he could keep, because there was no way he would be home in the next two or three days. Just no way.

Tenzou for his part was as relieved as he was worried. Sai and Masaki sat near the fire, keeping quiet as he unfolded the cloth wrapped around one of the knives, and then setting a little saucer of unmelted wax over the coals. He was relieved because Sakura seemed to be getting better, if only marginally, and yesterday he'd managed to get Sai to carry his letter to Fujimi, to be sent from there on to Edo. It would hopefully reach Kakashi tomorrow, and within the week the white-haired man would be back in Fujimi, because nothing would keep Kakashi from going to Sakura's side.

If Sakura could only hold out a few more days, all would be well, he thought to himself as he kept an eye on the wax.

Masaki continued brooding beside the cooking fire, while Sai kept his thoughts to himself. They couldn't convince the doctor in the town to see Sakura, the man claimed that the woman was a demon—and that he had no business treating the ailments of demons. Not even Asuma was able to sway the man short of actually physically dragging him. Weirdly enough, Sai had been the most upset at this turn of events—he had been silent and moody since they'd gotten the news, for no reason that Tenzou could quite discern.

Once the wax was well melted, Tenzou carefully picked it up with a wadded cloth and then went to Sakura's room, kneeling outside of her door. Ume slid it open, allowing him a glance at Sakura and her condition. She lay under her blankets, pale and weak. Her hair was a thatched mess, tied loosely at the base of her neck, while her eyes were feverish—despite her assurances to everyone that she no longer burned with the fevers of the last week.

* * *

 

Kakashi got up a little later that morning, stretching contentedly under his blanket. Naruto was already up, furiously copying letters while chanting their meanings under his breath. He was doing quite well so far, he could now read his own name as well as the names of those they were staying with. He still half-heartedly attempted to get everyone to call him Lo-id Leven-san. That name had many horrible sounds in it that all sounded  completely made up—in fact, none of them could accurately even mimic what Naruto said with ease— and Kakashi hoped to never encounter such nonsense again. Luckily the young man—not much older than Sakura—was becoming used to "Uzumaki Naruto." Kakashi didn't know  what they would do with him eventually, but for now it was enough to teach him how to read and write, as well as speak.

He was getting used to Kanna's recipes, finally, and was almost enthusiastic to eat the grilled fish she made for them—she routinely bullied one of her sons into getting her fresh fish every morning, even after the disastrous fire. Kakashi, quite partial to fish of all kinds, was getting a taste for her broiled saury. Naruto came down to breakfast just a minute or so late, and after sitting he started to wolf his rice down.

Looking back, only hours after the fact, Kakashi wondered what kind of bastard he had been in his last life.

They hadn't even heard the shoji open, let alone anyone announce their presence, before Lord Gama's voice crawled over their heads. He was amused, but in a dark kind of way that Kakashi remembered in his own life from interrogating captured peasants during the rebellion in Fujimi.

"It would seem that my decision to deliver this to you personally has been rewarding already, Hatake-san." Kakashi froze, just barely reaching for his side—his sword wasn't there, it was breakfast after all, and it wouldn't do any good to be aggressive with this man. The tall man handed Kakashi a letter while the rest of the table stared at them both. Kanna's head was bowed deeply, her eyes shut and her lips pressed together. Inoue's head was bowed a little but his eyes were fixed on the two white haired men, while his children sat in perfect stillness. Naruto was staring up at Lord Gama with unabashed terror—they'd explained to him the necessity that his presence remain utterly secret, and this unexpected guest certainly didn't fit with that in the least.

Kakashi couldn't remember how he had remembered the scene so perfectly, because the letter was addressed to him in Tenzou's writing. He didn't know why, but he was suddenly glad he had only been able to take a few bites. Sakura was supposed to be the one writing to him about what went on— Sakura . The letter was dated four days ago, with the courier's ticks marking a three day journey. His hands shook as he opened it and scanned over the words—heedless of everyone around him.

Kakashi,

Sakura is ill, very ill. Something has settled in her lungs, she can't breathe and coughs nearly constantly. She barely eats, and sleeps less—but when she does she asks for you. Please,  please come home as soon as you get this. If she gets any worse, I think she may die. 

Tenzou

A hand settled on his shoulder, while a body leaned over his—and Lord Gama's voice spoke softly into his ear. Kakashi shuddered, his heart pounding—he was going to faint at this rate.

"Now I will give you fastest passage out of the city, to your home, to your in-laws, and to your darling, dying wife—your father-in-law is of the nervous sort, I wager, and your mother-in-law a woman with a temper, while your wife is strong and sure of herself. But I will need something in return, and you'll give it to me because you have no choice. This foreigner is someone I've been looking forward to meeting for many months, and I had feared him dead in the fire—seeing him alive and well is gratifying." He paused, and Kakashi could see, in his peripheral vision, Naruto gaping at them. His eyes, however, remained fixed down towards the damning paper in his hands.

"You'll take him with you to Fujimi, and will care for him until I come for him—that is my fee. Your choice is to accept my offer and make it to… Sakura's side while she still lives. If you decline it, you will probably spend the rest of today just getting beyond the city walls—and the foreigner will be executed."

"You…you've read this letter then?"

"Of course I have, I've been having your mail opened since you arrived here—you're from Fujimi, which caused me a great hassle last fall, I've had all mail from there opened since then. I can't be seen making mistakes in wiping out that fanatical religion, least of all with you—the man with the  demon wife." Kakashi's heart contracted in on itself as he tried to cope with everything. Sakura was ill to the point of death, perhaps already gone. His hosts were likely guilty of harboring a fugitive—and said fugitive was likely going to die under Lord Gama's 'care,' while Kakashi himself was probably being viewed in the same light as the Uchiwa. His head sank, and the muscles in his face were taut with stress. Lord Gama shook his shoulder a little in an effort to cheer him.

"I won't take your wife from you, Hatake-san. Having had a woman taken from me once—a woman who is dead now—I wouldn't wish the same on any man. You simply owe me the yellow-haired boy and all is forgiven—no one will bother you ever again."

"And Inoue-san and his family?"

"They meant no harm, they did no harm, and will face no harm. I brought a second horse for the foreigner in case you chose to save his life rather than end it."

* * *

 

The house was silent as Kakashi packed for himself and Naruto. The loft-room he had spent the last three weeks in was just now growing familiar to him—the small table they'd given him to do his paperwork on, the cleared space for laying out the futon, the cool draft which brought with it spring air which was fresher by the day. He had meant to help Inoue and his sons re-thatch the roof, but there just wasn't the time.

Naruto tried to help as he could, but was eventually sat down in the corner where Kakashi stacked things in his arms. Kakashi's chest felt full and tight, and his hands shook if he didn't occupy them. Outside of the house one of Gama's men waited to escort them out of the city. Naruto would have to wear a hooded cloak—and somehow manage to keep his mouth shut for longer than a minute—and that would cause unnecessary questions at various gates unless someone was there to smooth things over.

Kakashi barely remembered saying goodbye to the people who had hosted him, recalling mostly that Kanna had tried to protest the amount of money he gave her—the smile that had tried to touch his face when he explained that the money had been forced on him as well, she would have to force it on someone else herself. Inoue and his sons were grave, quiet, and so it was Kanna who stood out to him the most. Naruto for his part was effusive and tearful, turning many times on his horse to wave goodbye to the family.

The city was more of a gigantic shanty-town as they rode out. Tents, sheds, lean-to's, and more dotted the ruins which had once been homes and businesses. Looking at the destruction now, however, wasn't as awful to Kakashi now—he had no real personal investment here, he was just a samurai from the north, and that was where all of his concerns resided. But that wasn't exactly true, either. Asuma and Kurenai—and their new baby girl—were his neighbors, he was not responsible for them. Sai was his guest, indefinitely yes but still a guest. Tenzou was his brother in arms, a man who he hoped to someday raise to the level of a samurai—but that was someday.

Sakura was his only concern. He might not get a  someday with her, to have a life with her at all.

Because they couldn't ride full-speed through the city, he spent that time quietly—nearly unaware of it—teaching Naruto words pertaining to horses. Commands, notices, changes in speed, names of the saddle equipment. Their guide, on his own horse, picked a quick route to the Northwest Gate. His silence went unnoticed by both men who followed him.

Once they were beyond the city, however, Kakashi pushed them hard. He knew he'd be sore, he knew Naruto would complain of the same. He didn't care. The land adjacent to the road was blooming with greenery and flowers, but that only made him angry with the gods. He couldn't reconcile himself to the riot of life surrounding him with the awful thought of Sakura's illness. Tenzou had said she couldn't breathe—some sort of lasting infectious filling of the lungs probably. His stomach roiled at the thought of that sickness. Tenzou had caught something like that once, eight or more years ago now—he'd been struck with fever, coughing, and hadn't been able to eat and feared sleeping.

Lord Gama had written them a document of passage which demanded fresh horses at larger ryokan, so Kakashi pushed them towards those. He chose a fast trot. With a few breaks they would make good time—as much as he hated the thought of stopping for even one moment, having a horse drop dead under him was the last thing he needed at the moment.

"What is Sakura-san like?" Naruto's question was halting over the steady clodding of horse hooves. Kakashi glanced over at him, the poor tall man bouncing along next to him. He didn't want to answer, so he stayed silent. Naruto didn't look over at him, looking ahead the whole time.

"I think she is louder than Kanna-san, and that she laughs more," Naruto said eventually.

"…what makes you think that?"

"Men don't chase after women who don't laugh."

They got fresh horses just after midday. Naruto whined that he was hungry, so Kakashi bought him a bowl of plain rice. He watched in silence as Naruto happily ate, but had no appetite of his own. For the first time, Kakashi wondered how much of what Lord Gama had said was a bluff and how much of it was true—if he had waited so very long to meet Naruto, why would he kill him if Kakashi chose not to take the boy to Fujimi? What did that terrifying old man gain by giving Kakashi a fast passage home? It bothered him, but on another level he didn't care.

His young friend's life was spared at least for a few days or weeks, and he was well on his way to Sakura.

If he had been silent and worried earlier in the day, as they continued on it grew worse. Mentally he went over the miles again and again in his mind—they could perhaps change horses once more before too late in the afternoon, and make another ten miles before it got too dark. Forty miles at the most. The other twenty five would have to be covered tomorrow, and already Kakashi's bones ached at the thought.

Sakura's hands had been warm and soft in his when he'd left, he had held them tightly as he'd kissed them. Looking down briefly at his own hands, raw from holding the reins in a death-grip all morning, Kakashi hoped to hold those hands once again. But he couldn't know for certain, and so he chose to begin working out the other details of his life—the life he'd have should Sakura be gone when he came home. Masaki and Ume would of course be welcome to stay with him, the least he could do for Sakura would be to help care for her parents as they got older.

He didn't think about— refused  to actually—the reason he had to do so at all. Just weeks ago they had all been so happy. Kakashi prayed that it would last, that all of his pessimism would prove to be unnecessary. Sakura would smile at him and call Tenzou silly for worrying him. His guest would smile in that confused way of his, not knowing the finer points of tact and choosing to remain silent. His in-laws would smile indulgently as he doted on Sakura as her increasing belly made her increasingly useless around the farm.

He just had to get through midday tomorrow, and then he would know—even though the thought of knowing brought bile up Kakashi's throat.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: Ryokan were government and local inns where you could tie up your horse/etc and have a sleep, they also would feed you and let you have a bath. This has been covered before but figured it was due for an update. There are still a few in places around Japan and you can stay at them still—some are "original," and such and others are more modern. So yeah.
> 
> Funfact: Clarification: Ietsuna is the current shogun, his father Iemitsu is all dead and such. Iemitsu left Ietsuna under Jiraiya's care in the story, as well as all of us with headaches. Ieyasu, Iemitsu, and Ietsuna…are you seeing a pattern? Friggin' Tokugawa family. Ieyasu started the Tokugawa shogunate, Iemitsu started the persecution of Christians, and Ietsuna was the chillaxed guy out of like the whole dynasty (I think a few months ago I noted that he was chill in the manner that the guy with the axe is way more chilled out than the guy with the chainsaw, though a better description would be Ietsuna is the guy with a lighter vs his dad Iemitsu being the guy with the Molotov…you're gonna get burned, but after one of them gets done with you you'll be alive).
> 
> Funfact: Itachi has a wound on his forehead with blood that has bled "upwards." It bled downwards when it was made, because he was upside down when they cut him. That's because the …Japanese Inquisition…(yeah, I'm going with that) had a favorite torture method called "tsurushi" which is translated as "reverse hanging." It was basically hanging someone upside down for a long time to make them give up information and/or recant. Except humans pass out after awhile because all the blood rushing to their head. Tsurushi was awful because they figured out a way around that. They cut across your forehead Sylar-style and then you couldn't pass out. So yeah. Basically terrifying. And effective! The Spanish Inquisition had nothing on the Japanese Inquisition.
> 
> Funotherstuff: I wrote out Kakashi's panic attack the way I and a few people I know experience panic attacks. So that's all the research I did on it, feel free to attack me for whatever's wrong there I'm not going to change it because panic attacks are not the focal point of the story.
> 
> Funfact: Cremation in the 16th and 17th centuries in Catholic countries was pretty darn frowned upon (to such an extent that to this day, cremation rates in predominantly Catholic countries don't usually exceed 20% of total dead-person-disposal ideas), and so I'm taking that for all it is worth here with Jiraiya and yeah.
> 
> Funfact: Ietsuna had a bunch of regents who advised him for a long time, and in 1658 he was only 17 or 18 years old. The regency over him only ended in 1663, a full five years after where the story is taking place right now. Again, he was the chill guy out of like the whole dynasty. Mostly.
> 
> Funfact: You don't actually scrub yourself in the tub if you're having a bath in Japan, you soak in the tub to be all relaxed and happy. You scrub all the dirt and dead skin and gross off while you're sitting outside of the tub on a little stool, pouring water over yourself occasionally. It saves on water for the bath itself because then clean people are rubbadubdubdubing in the bathtub, not dirty ones. It's basically like taking a quick shower before drawing yourself a bath. Yes.

"Kakashi-iii—i," Naruto whined as Kakashi nudged him with his foot. The foreigner was cuddled up under his blanket, dewdrops sparkling across it. In the bare light of the false dawn his hair was ethereally blue, and his face was deathly pale. Kakashi shuddered once and then got control over himself again. He would  not think those thoughts. He had stayed up all night rather than have nightmares of seeing her cold body, or worse the stone used to mark her resting place—or the name they would give her spirit, or his cold house, or his empty bedroom,  anything . He would not grieve her unless he absolutely had to.

"Get up, Naruto, we have to start the day sometime," he said, trying to be as sympathetic to the younger man as possible. Naruto was being dragged along against his will, deprived of rest because of Kakashi—though if Naruto had stayed behind in Edo, Kakashi wasn't sure he would have stopped here as long as he had. The next ryokan was only seven or eight miles up the road, he could have pushed himself there had he been alone. He would have demanded fresh horses and been home by dawn.

"Is there anything to eat?"

"No, but we can get some rice just down the road. Now up."

He ended up tying a short lead to Naruto's horse, just in case the boy fell asleep. Kakashi promised himself that he would let Naruto rest as long as he wanted to—once they were in Fujimi. The sky was still dark, but Kakashi could just see his way from the weak light provided by the stars and the last of the moon—he picked a slower trot than yesterday, to be safe. The horses whickered occasionally, sensing the creatures and spirits that lived in the dark.

The sky was just letting on towards light when they changed horses at the ryokan. Kakashi bought rice for Naruto and soup for himself—if he threw up it wouldn't be awful, and he hadn't eaten but a few bites of rice the previous morning. Naruto ended up drinking the soup, now cold, after stealing it Kakashi's motionless hands. In his heart he knew that his reaction was going to be seen as untoward, and that to most men his haste was unnecessary—wives were arranged out of economy, existing as mothers and helpers. He also knew that people died, of all assortments of illnesses too. But Kakashi didn't want to accept any of these for Sakura. She was a force to be reckoned with sometimes, despite her bouts of shyness.

Riding faster as they came closer to Fujimi, Kakashi prayed—as he had for much of the night—that she had overcome the infection. Naruto was quiet—tired and grimy, poorly fed—but kept up with him. When Kakashi saw the first few buildings of the village he almost urged his horse into a gallop. He stopped himself, but only barely as he and Naruto cantered through the center of town. Kakashi saw the town doctor and glared until the man wilted under his gaze as he passed. Tenzou had mentioned nothing of Fumio, the doctor, coming to see Sakura, which meant that the man had refused to attend her—the wife of a samurai! He would deal with the doctor later, he told himself.

Fumio screamed suddenly, right about when Naruto would have passed by the doctor. Kakashi glanced behind him once, seeing Naruto circle again on his horse before starting to follow him. The yellow haired man had probably made some sort of grotesque face. A smirk twitched on Kakashi's lips—he'd told Naruto to act the part of a demon if anyone ever saw him. Apparently Naruto had seen who Kakashi had been staring at. Riding out of town was grim for Kakashi as he wondered how fast he could push his mount without hurting it. He decided to save the last of its strength for the last half mile or so, trotting for fifteen minutes before he forced the borrowed horse into a fast canter. A gallop would have done the poor thing in, and that seemed something that would accrue only worse luck than he half-expected already. Naruto fell behind a little, but Kakashi was sure the dust cloud kicked up behind him would be easy enough to follow. The early morning sun beat down on him relentlessly—it was so warm out…if Sakura had died she would already be buried.

His house was the same as he had left it nearly a month ago—the roof needing new thatch, the fence in good repair, the white paper of the shoji all accounted for and neat. Kakashi threw himself from his horse, barely even looping the reigns around the tie-up before hurrying to the house. His noisy arrival attracted the attention of those inside, but Kakashi had no mind for them. He didn't even take off his shoes as he dashed in.

As he stormed through the main room, Masaki and Tenzou rose up—they were pale and the alarm was evident on their features as they grabbed for his arms. Kakashi suddenly couldn't hear what they were saying but it seemed they didn't want him to go to his room—which could only mean one thing.

Shaking Masaki off and muscling forward despite Tenzou's efforts, Kakashi made it to his room and threw the shoji open—he ignored the harsh crack as it hit the end of the groove, the shudder that went through it as it settled at an odd angle. He ignored it because he was going to die.

The room was cold and dark, which had his heart pounding even harder than before. Not even a darkened lantern sat inside. Kakashi started gasping for air, fighting to get further inside as Tenzou continued to pull him away—or at least try. His bedding was rolled up and stored exactly where he'd left it, which was fine. It was Sakura's bedding—sitting innocently in the middle of the floor—that had him sinking to his knees as he pulled it towards himself, choking on each ragged breath. He smoothed trembling hands over the fabric, knowing that it had been folded for at least a few days. Tenzou's hands continued to pull at his arms, and were once again joined by Masaki's.

Suddenly he could hear again—Tenzou was saying something, but Kakashi's body was unable to stand another moment of this. He had run out of steam. He hadn't eaten or slept for an entire day and night, he had pushed his aching and protesting body sixty five miles in that amount of time, and it had all been for  nothing. Kakashi's vision grayed for a few moments before returning to normal as he stopped struggling against Tenzou and Masaki, staring mutely back at his empty bedroom as they dragged him away.

* * *

 

Orochimaru resisted the urge, the  necessity to cover his mouth as he followed the guards into the prison. Since arriving in Edo, he had carefully bribed a few people here and there into giving him the location and the access to this place—the prison where the bakufu kept political prisoners. The place was gloomy, and the air smelled of human sweat and excrement, with a tinge of mold playing in every breath he took. To think that they were keeping what was rightfully his here was nauseating.

Passing the pale, blank faces of the Uchiwa clan was eerie. They were silent for the most part, some of them bruised and bloodied, while others had their heads bent in prayers that echoed in the darkness. The faces faded immediately after they passed by, the torch light brought by the guard being the only illumination in this wing of the prison. He made sure not to look into any of their eyes as they flashed occasionally.

The guard, who had been reluctant until Orochimaru had casually doubled his offer, stopped near the end of the hallway and opened one of the doors. The man went inside calling for Uchiwa Sasuke to step forward, and when the young man did the guard led him out. The door was locked once again and the guard stepped a few feet away to give them an illusion of privacy.

Sasuke stood proud and tall, but Orochimaru still pouted a little at the younger man's appearance. The once unruly jet black hair was subdued from lack of washing, and his cheekbones stood out prominently from his thin face.

"They have not been taking as good of care of my Sasuke as I was promised they were," he said softly, his eyes catching now on the dirty clothing his lover wore—the kimono had been a fine one once upon a time, but seven months in prison had changed that. Sasuke remained silent, which made Orochimaru smile just a touch—this man  still knew what he liked. Peace, quiet, beauty.

His smile turned severe as he stepped close to Sasuke, his face serious. Those large black eyes met his unflinchingly. Gods, he had  missed  this.

"Tell me you've renounced that traitorous religion, and I'll get you out of here," his hand snatched up to grasp Sasuke's jaw, forcing the boy to look directly into his eyes.

"I renounce all of it, Orochimaru-sama," Sasuke said with hard determination. Orochimaru's face relaxed and his hand released Sasuke's chin in favor of smoothing away the Uchiwa man's bangs. The backs of his fingers just barely touched Sasuke's cheek, a touch which the younger man leaned into just the slightest bit.

He knew why Sasuke had come to him—it was to gain the power of a Kyoto lord, not being satisfied with the power afforded to the second son of a rural aristocrat's family. But that made it better, knowing that his favor was everything Sasuke strived for—and that he could get anything he wanted from the young man because of it.

"Then I will bring this knowledge before the shogun. Ietsuna will surely be glad to pardon you—all of us make mistakes in our youth and he should know that better than anyone," he said as he stepped away from the Uchiwa man. The guard opened the bars once again and Sasuke went inside without a fuss. Orochimaru turned towards the exit with a smirk—Ietsuna was barely older than Sasuke, and easily manipulated.

In the back of Sasuke's cell a man lifted his head from his prayers, and Orochimaru caught only the barest glimpse of him. He was badly beaten, bruising closing one of his eyes as dried blood further caked it closed. There was a wound high on his forehead, but looked to have bled upwards instead of down. The man's open eye was bright with fever or madness, Orochimaru wasn't sure which. He wasn't all that concerned with the Uchiwa religion so much as getting what he wanted from Sasuke—he didn't care if Sasuke decided to continue practicing it, so long as he never again did something as stupid as get caught.

Itachi, however, didn't know these things. His brother sat down once more near the bars—preferring to be as far away from Itachi as possible it seemed. He stared at his younger brother as he meditated on what to do. He had been leading the family in prayer occasionally through the winter to keep their spirits up before the trials were to begin in the summer, and the echoes of the prayers had taken residence in his mind nearly constantly. They gave him the strength to endure the beatings he was given for "riling" the other prisoners. Even now, as he was weak with fever, he had led one such prayer yesterday.

The echoes also whispered to him what he had to do. His brother had been corrupted. He'd known that for months already, but Sasuke had so easily rejected everything that the whispers in Itachi's head became louder chants. Sasuke had only renounced his faith to the man from Kyoto, not yet to God himself, so there was still the chance that he could end up in purgatory. As he crept silently up behind his younger brother, Itachi comforted himself that his brother would not face an eternity of torment—that eventually Sasuke would see and repent his sins, and would live in eternal bliss with the saints and angels.

"This is for the best, Brother," Itachi murmured as he wrapped his hands around Sasuke's neck.

* * *

 

Sakura was feeling a little better this morning, enough to run her fingers through her hair in an attempt to detangle it—though the effort left her breathless. She had spent most of the night coughing up whatever had been in her lungs, and although the infection was still there she felt she had won some sort of battle against it. There was still a  lot  of it whatever it was. Her hair bothered her, however, and since she could sit up for more than ten minutes at a time she wanted to do something about it.

"Tenzou, get my mother please," she asked softly as she opened boxes—in search of her combs for the first time in days. Tenzou voiced an assent before getting up from where he sat most of the time, occupying his worried hands with carving trinkets and a few small boxes. Pakkun stood up and stretched, his nose questing along her hairline with a pleased snuffle. Throughout the last week and a half, he had been inseparable from her—nearly biting Asuma when the man tried to muscle him out a few days ago.

"Mother, could you help me to the bath house? I'd like to wash this illness away, if you'd help me," Sakura said when Ume opened the door. Pakkun turned his attentions to her, trying to lick her face while his tail waved to and fro. Sakura smiled, half-heartedly grabbing for it to get him off her mother. Tenzou's worried face, rectangular, pale, and flat, peered over Ume's shoulder. The man always worried, it seemed like.

"And Tenzou, if you could take my bedding out to the garden and lay it out over the fence—I think it needs to air out a little. I'll sleep on the futon from my sewing room, if you'd move it in here while I'm washing. Please?"

Soaking in the bathwater was relaxing, even if the peace was broken by her coughing—after a while of breathing in the warm, moist air Sakura felt that she was actually accomplishing something with each cough. Her mother combed her hair slowly, never pulling even the tiniest tangle out. Sakura drifted, not quite dozing but not quite awake, so she didn't know how long it was before she heard the thunder of a single horse bearing down the road towards the house. Reluctantly she dried off and put on her yukata. They would probably have need of the lady of the house if they were riding out here on such a fast horse, so she might as well start getting decent.

Tenzou's voice started shouting across the yard, followed by Masaki's, only a minute after the horse had been sharply reigned back at the front gate. Sakura didn't even wait for her mother's help before starting to pick her away across the yard. By the time she reached the porch she was out of breath, but she didn't need to go any further. Supported between her father and Tenzou was Kakashi, looking groggy and confused and terribly upset until he saw her.

Sakura was too out of breath to say anything, but she didn't need to apparently. Kakashi wrestled towards her, dropping to his knees in front of her. His hands smoothed over Sakura's shoulders just once before he yanked her towards him, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. He didn't make a sound as he did it, but his entire body shook as Sakura felt a few tears hit her skin and roll down. Sakura tried to sooth him as much as she could, but the effort of getting to the porch set her into another coughing fit.

Kakashi changed his embrace so she was better cradled in his arms, so it was easier for her to breathe. When she subsided, he tucked her head against his shoulder and pressed his lips to her forehead. She was alive, she was still alive—he wasn't yet sure if he was going to yell at anyone for scaring him so badly, but Sakura was alive. Kakashi was dizzy as he let go of all the tension he'd harbored since he'd read that awful letter.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," he said. She laughed, her voice was raspy but Kakashi didn't care.

"I'll see what I can do…you, however, need a bath." Kakashi smiled as he curled his bruised fingers into her damp locks. The water still clinging to every strand made Sakura's hair sparkle.

"And you need to finish combing your hair—I think we can work something out."

* * *

 

He went outside to make sure the horse was properly tied up. People out in the country enjoyed such a level of complacency that he worried he was starting to pick it up. He heard the persistent thudding of a horse kept at a slow trot and looked far down the road where a man with yellow hair was making his way towards the house. He ducked down around the fence, mentally preparing himself for the man's arrival. The yellow haired man was probably the man his master had been looking forward to meeting over the last few months—he didn't ask himself why the man was this far north in Fujimi, but he knew that his master would be pleased to know he had caught the foreigner.

He found a rock and weighed it between his fingers—not heavy enough to do any damage unless he threw it at the man's face, but just heavy enough to create a distraction. He would have to vault over the entire horse to get the man to the ground—

"Sai? What are you doing?" Tenzou called from the porch.  Damn . He dropped the small stone and made his excuses.

"I thought I heard another horse on the road, but I was getting a pebble out of my sandal before I went out the gate."

"I thought I heard one too, let's check." And that was how they met Uzumaki Naruto, who insisted he had traveled from Edo with Kakashi and had just fallen behind on the last mile. Impressing the painter with his paranoia, Tenzou tied the strange looking newcomer to the fence and decided to wait for Kakashi to get back from his trip to the bath house.

* * *

 

"My father is in town," she said, mostly as a way to distract him from noticing the minnows she'd put in his soup. Iruka became distraught over the tiniest things, truly. He didn't take her teasing quite as in stride as her brother had—her supposed brother, anyway. She hadn't laid eyes on him for a good fifteen years now, he might be dead for all she knew. But she rather hoped sometimes that her father died before her brother. If she was forced to only have one of them, she would choose her brother. Supposed brother.

"Oh really?" Iruka's voice was absent as he glanced at her once—he truly disliked her father, and Anko knew why. Iruka's mother, Umino Sayoko, was one of the nicest and most popular people in Edo—and Anko's father would have nothing to do with her for the simple fact that she had birthed three illegitimate children to the Sarutobi clan-head. Her father preferred guaranteed purity of the line, if it was to be hereditary. Anko's own mother had been forced into a convent to become a nun after failing for ten years to produce a male child. She was too high-ranking to divorce or do away with, she was a niece of Shogun Iemitsu and either move would go badly for Anko's father. He was far too intelligent to bring such attention to himself.

Iruka  still hadn't noticed the minnows, and Anko wondered briefly if her husband could ever hope to successfully raise a child—there was a reason she had staved off having children for this long, using various herbs and invented headaches quite successfully over the last three years. Iruka was such an innocent sometimes that Anko mentally comforted him that at least he was married to her and not a woman who would let him flounder. But it was high time that they started attempting (well, Iruka had been attempting for years, too trusting to notice what she was doing to sabotage him) to continue the family line.

"Ackackaaagh—you!—there's a—!— woman… "

* * *

 

Sakura's coughing was unnerving but Kakashi reveled in it. She was so amazingly alive as she sat in the bathhouse with him. Sitting on one of the stools, she had loosened her obi just a little, and her yukata fell open to a wide V while her long hair was pulled over one shoulder so she could comb it a little, and he had never seen someone more relaxed or happy. And so very alive.

"How long have you been sick?" he said as he sat down next to her after soaking for a little in the ofuro, and poured some water on his hair to start scrubbing it. Sakura took the ladle from him and shakily stood so she could help him, leaning one hip against the tub as she took some water to pour over his head.

"I…I think for ten days or so. Tenzou thinks it was one of the little village boys who gave it to me, but I'm not so sure," Sakura paused for breath and cleared her throat, "I've been getting better over the last two or three days though, if only a little. For instance I can stand up today," she finished brightly. Kakashi decided not to question her further, it would only make him upset that he hadn't been notified of her illness immediately.

"When I got Tenzou's letter I panicked," he eventually said softly as he scrubbed the last of the dirt from his skin between the occasional rinse of water from Sakura. The room was quiet except for the splashing and dripping of water hitting the floor, and the husky wheeze of Sakura's breathing.

"He did say that he wrote to you a few days ago—that courier must have been fast!" Her voice was pleased, and a little indulgent. Kakashi's head drooped down before he spoke again, his elbows resting on his knees while his hands went limp.

"I got it yesterday morning, Sakura," he admitted, not looking up. He loved her so badly, he hadn't been able to think past getting home to find out what had happened to her.

Her hands reached out and grasped his bare shoulders, her fingers slipping only a little from the water still on his skin. He reached around her and tucked his face against her hip. His eyes were hot again, as they had been twenty minutes ago when he had seen her kneeling on the porch, her face pale save for two spots of high color on her cheeks. Kakashi couldn't believe himself, actually letting tears fall—how long had it been since he'd last wept? He sucked in a shuddering breath and held her tighter, but this time his eyes stayed dry.

Kakashi carried Sakura back into the house, leaving her near the fire where she could keep warm. He didn't even have to see Tenzou to know who was outside tied up to the fence—he'd heard Naruto's voice shouting in that foreign tongue of his for the last half hour. He couldn't have told anyone  how he knew Tenzou would do something like that to a stranger, but it came from the fact that it was what he would have done in the same situation. Probably. In any rate, however, Naruto was  unimpressed with his forty-five minute sit down. Their wandering painter sat calmly next to Naruto. With Sai's mind sometimes doddering between creepily aware and completely complacent it was hard to tell what went on in his head—but today was obviously a  complacent day in the forgetful man's life. He was asking Naruto questions about what Edo was like and who he had seen.

Poor Naruto was probably catching about half of what Sai said.

"He says he followed you out here—"

"That he did, Tenzou. This is Uzumaki Naruto, who eats fish and noodles fast enough to make your head spin. Naruto," he said, nudging the yellow-haired man's thigh with his foot, "this is Tenzou, the family help. And this is Sai, another guest of the house." He spoke slowly, gesturing along to each word. Naruto understood actions far better than words most of the time—the young man's reply to the introductions was a muttered string of harsh-sounding gibberish. In that light, the young man would probably always be slightly intimidated by Tenzou just because of the circumstances of how they'd met. Not everyone's first greeting to a new person was to tie them up, after all.

"Is Sakura-san?" Naruto asked, rubbing at his wrists to relieve their aching after Kakashi untied him and helped him to stand. Kakashi clapped an arm around Naruto's shoulders, which had been tense until those blue eyes had sighted on Kakashi's smile. Behind them, Tenzou and Sai looked to the horses—Sai as always slightly bewildered, and Tenzou grumpy at the thought of feeding the two beasts until they could be returned to town. Kakashi slipped his feet out of his sandals and pulled his fingers through his hair—still a bit damp from the bath—while Naruto struggled with the laces on his boots, still muttering in that foreign tongue of his. He actually sounded a fair bit like Tenzou.

"Sakura, I brought someone back with me from Edo—he has been looking forward to meeting you actually. His name is Naruto, don't let him convince you otherwise," Kakashi called before finally bending down to help the younger man with his boots. Sakura called back that her mother had started tea for all of them, if they would only hurry up. Kakashi restrained himself from wincing at how raw and weak her voice was.  She is alive ,  I am with her here in this house .  That is enough.

The next day he took it upon himself to visit Sarutobi-sama—the man would have heard of his return by now, and would soon demand an explanation of Iruka's whereabouts. In fact, he met the rider as the man was on his way out—only sighting on Kakashi's white hair stopped him from continuing all the way to the Hatake farmland. Kakashi had taken one of the two horses with him, so it was easy to have his mount fall into a trot beside the man Sarutobi-sama had sent.

"Is Sarutobi-sama in good health, Yayoi-san?" Yayoi was a few years older than him, and one of the few retainer-samurai that Sarutobi-sama actually trusted. The rest of them vied for positions in his rule, and he hated most of them. It was a lament that Kakashi had heard for most of his life—why, o' why, would did the Hatake so respectfully refuse to be made official advisors to the daimyo of Fujimi? His father Sakumo had always argued that such an arrangement was for the best—not  having a position meant that no lies were invented to  keep the position.

"Yes, but in a poor humor today—he expressly told you not to return without his son, yet here you are. And Iruka-sama is quite obviously absent…do you know if he is alive?"

"He and Anko were alive and quite well when I left Edo—you know, my wife is ill. They feared she would die, I had to return." Yayoi nodded once.

"I had heard it—Asuma-sama came to ask that Sarutobi-sama force the doctor into seeing her. I don't know what was said, only that Asuma-sama left here even more furious than he was when he arrived. But you're probably lucky that Fumio didn't see to your wife—they say he accidentally killed that Uchiwa woman last summer with the dosages of medicines he gave her, before all that trouble with the family in the fall."

Kakashi shook his head, still upset.

"That does not mean he has the right to refuse services to a samurai—but it is in the past, I cannot change it. Though if he dares to refuse to see my family again, I will kill him."

"I'll be sure to pass that along to Sarutobi-sama once you have had your meeting with him and are safely on your way home."

* * *

 

Sakura was coughing still. She wished it was different, that Kakashi had come home and that she would get better soon after. This illness seemed to persist, and she felt guilty that she kept her husband awake at night—or even worse, would wake him up. Kakashi always sat up and rubbed her back as she struggled to bring up anything with her coughing. His hair stood up in every direction because he combed his fingers through it when he woke up each time. Their room was dark, but she still knew his hair was defying gravity.

He also refused to sleep in another room, despite Sakura wanting to keep him from getting sick. His one black eye was always open, looking at her intently as she fell asleep in his arms each night. The lamp was always glowing dimly somewhere near their bedding, even in the middle of the night when she startled awake fighting to breathe through a sudden fit of wheezing and hacking.

"Are you even sleeping anymore, Kakashi? You should sleep," she murmured as he held her after tonight's latest episode. One of his arms was around her waist while the other swept across her back occasionally. The lantern's wick was close to sputtering out—she would have to ask Tenzou to wrap some more for them, rather than run out.

"I'll be fine. You're the one who should sleep."

"Can I lay down then, or do you plan on keeping this vigil over me for the rest of the night? This can't go on, Kakashi, you'll wear yourself out and then you'll catch this sickness and then where will I be?" Kakashi slumped down backwards immediately, dragging Sakura down with him.

"You have to sleep too."

"Not part of the original deal—you're laying down aren't you?" Sakura grinned up at him, reaching a hand up to flick his cheek to punish him for being a pain. Her husband grinned back at her and turned on his side so he could face her better. One of his hands cupped her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her—Sakura hated it when he kissed her, because it felt like that was the time he would pick up this sickness from her. Kakashi didn't share her views, and would kiss her no matter what. Somewhere in her mind she knew that Kakashi was still decompressing, even a few days later, from his stressful trip to Edo and his terrified trip home to her—because he had been worried for  her .

"You've been home for four days, and you've never asked if…" Sakura was afraid to see his face suddenly, and curled up so that her head was tucked under his chin. Her mother had assured her that even when she was delirious with fever nothing had happened, but that didn't dissuade the worry. Kakashi stayed silent, although he straightened out his body a little as he focused on her.

"You've never asked if I lost our baby," she said softly, so quietly that Sakura suddenly wondered if she would have to repeat herself. He took a deep breath, and then another—he tucked his chin backwards enough to kiss her hairline before returning his head to normal. His arms lay around her like weights.

"I was much more worried for you, Sakura, than anything or  anyone else—I prayed that everything be taken from me but you. If you miscarried because you were sick— are sick, you're ill even now—then I brought that on you, on  us . And I'm sorry if—"

"I'm not sure I have, Kakashi, I just wanted to let you know that—I'm not sure at all," she laughed softly, remembering her paranoia in the middle of the night almost a week ago when she had had her mother cut a lock of her hair for him  just in case . The laugh was brittle, however, as she coughed brutally afterwards. It was not hard to believe that Kakashi's prayers had saved her life at the expense of the child that had only just barely taken inside her. Time would tell one way or the other, she was sure.

* * *

 

He sat in the shadows as Orochimaru tried to persuade Ietsuna to pardon the young Uchiwa boy. Jiraiya had preemptively explained in painful detail that morning exactly why the brother of the family leader should be put to death immediately after trial in the fall—and to not listen in seriousness to anyone who thought otherwise. The news brought to him yesterday about Orochimaru's visit to the Uchiwa prisoners was food for thought. He had every guard in the city on his leash—they were to accept any and all bribes that came their way, and if they told him what they'd been bribed to do he let them keep two thirds of the money.

If they didn't tell him, and he found out, he had them killed. Jiraiya felt that the system worked, because after the first bloody year he was rarely in the position of having to prove his seriousness. His wife's family ensured that he knew everything going on in the city anyway. He just liked extra security.

That was how he'd known the day and time Lord Hebi had arrived to the city, as well as the names of every guard the man paid off.

"I will consider your request as well as the prisoner's confession, please return to your home for the time being," Ietsuna said, his voice sure. Jiraiya smirked. He had omitted the morning's news of the Uchiwa prisoners. They occasionally died, usually the older ones from the conditions or a few suicides here and there. He knew of the superstitions Kirishitans had about the dead and had been monopolizing on them recently to minimize the suicides—things like cremation  truly bothered them, enough to make them think twice about killing themselves…just not each other, it seemed.

The news he'd gotten that morning was that Uchiwa Itachi had murdered his younger brother Sasuke sometime the previous afternoon. When the morning's food was delivered, they'd found him sitting serenely in the middle of his cell with his brother's body draped across his lap. He'd strangled the young man after Orochimaru's visit, probably  because of Orochimaru's visit and what he'd promised to Sasuke. But it didn't matter to Jiraiya the reasons why the Uchiwa family head had done it because, either out of jealousy or betrayal, Uchiwa Sasuke's death was to be a nice blow against Hebi Orochimaru.

Perhaps they would let the Uchiwa boy rot in the sun for a few days.

After all, they hadn't yet done anything with the boy's body and it wouldn't do to deliver it to the Hebi clan compound today or tomorrow—far, far too soon after Uchiwa Sasuke's death to be properly understood. Jiraiya smiled grimly. Orochimaru deserved  every assurance of the whereabouts of his would-be heir. But first they would send a note later on today giving Orochimaru notice that the daimyo was giving serious consideration to his request—the higher a hope was, the more beautifully cruel it was when it shattered.

His Tsunade-hime had been beautiful too, before Orochimaru had had his way with her. She had killed herself from the shame—even now he could see her waterlogged body, retrieved from the river she'd thrown herself into. The wound was still raw for Jiraiya, even twenty seven years later.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: the mentor/mentee + eroticism relationship of shudo was supposed to end once the younger man had reached his majority of some sort. After that a lot of the relationship was supposed to stop, and people who didn't stop it were seen as clingy. You could go on to have other such relationships but at some point it was considered as quite shameful for one or both parties. So hence Anko's unease concerning her father's letter.
> 
> Funfact: I think I've mentioned this before, but the shogun's castle was actually damaged in the Meireki Fire and was restored/repaired/rebuilt last within the city of Edo.
> 
> Funfact: I've tried to be fairly meticulous with the use of "-sama" with people's names if they're higher ranking than Kakashi or Sakura, because I felt and still feel like that matters with this story. There's no other Japanese words other than item-specific words such as shoji (rice paper door), ofuro (Japanese bathtub), butsudan (Buddhist shrine in the home), and a few others. This is also on purpose because I really hate stories which have "Gomen," (although I did use that with Naruto once, I remember now, but that was to illustrate a point) and "arigatou!," and others. They sort of infuriate me depending on how they're used.
> 
> With all of this in mind, I bring your attention to Gama Jiraiya, Lord Gama. Sticking with the previous notions of class and hierarchies, shouldn't this man be referred to in the story as…Gama…sama?
> 
> I've tried, readers. I've tried for months. I still can't type "Gama-sama," with a straight face and there is no way you'll likely ever see him referred to as such in Samurai. You can't make me! You can't make me put a beard on Kakashi, you can't make me take a beard off of Iruka, and you can't make me call Jiraiya "Gama-sama."
> 
> Funfacts! I...I have no idea what else needs a funfact in this chapter. The 'peasants floating the dead down the river,' I will admit I'm copping from Twilight Samurai because for a movie reference it seems like it is pretty darn accurate and nifty (again, 12 Japanese Academy Awards, nominated for Best Foreign Film here in the US). Just wanted to have full disclosure about that particular part.

Jiraiya smiled grimly as he watched the litter-bearers leave the prison compound, all of them coughing and gagging at the smell rising up from the body they carried. It wasn't justice for Tsunade-hime, but at least it was something to use against Orochimaru. He had tried to have Orochimaru's fief taken from him all those years ago, but had had no case—Tsunade-hime had been a minor princess, only distantly related to the emperor, and so no heads were demanded after her suicide. Jiraiya had been beside himself with grief at the time—her family had said that her child had died, which was why she'd killed herself. Lies, just lies—ones he had found out about only recently in the last five years or so.

He would have to leave Edo soon if he wanted to beat Orochimaru out of town—the man would likely only sulk for a few days before deciding to collect Tsunade-hime's child. Jiraiya touched his kimono where, hidden in a pocket close to his heart, was a document he had gotten the other four regents as well as the young shogun to sign—Tsunade-hime's child should have been his own, and was it so hard to allow him to adopt what was rightfully his?

"Fetch me Iruka-san," he said as the smell cleared and the shouts of the litter-bearers grew dim as they made haste towards the Hebi clan compound. The man at his left elbow ghosted away towards the guest wing where Jiraiya had stationed the Sarutobi heir and his wife—although the wife had grated at him. Umino Anko was a wildcard, especially with her loyalties. Based on his interactions with her, Jiraiya hoped that she was more loyal to her husband than her father, but that was something he preferred to leave up in the air. He did not give his trust easily anymore, certainly not after what the woman's father had done to him.

Jiraiya gazed out at the city from the open gate. So many people had died, thousands upon thousands, but he would rebuild. He would rebuild the shogun's castle last—a goodwill measure for the people, to see the progress of reconstruction so stunted at the very top of government would warm their hearts towards how slowly the city recovered. The recovery would take a long time, he feared. They were still finding bodies occasionally under the rubble of houses which had collapsed and had other buildings fall on them.

He would leave tonight, with Iruka and Anko in tow behind him—far too soon for her to engineer a message to her father if she were inclined towards it, and he had already received some politely irate letters from Sarutobi Hiruzen about his continued detainment of the man's heir. There were days that he was truly glad to have only had a daughter—this business of sons could get so far out of hand. Thinking for a moment, Jiraiya also decided to bring his own daughter with him. One could never have too much protection, either of one's person or one's house.

* * *

 

"Is there fish tonight? Please say there is fish tonight, Sakura-san!" Naruto's voice questioned her from the porch as he came outside, fiddling with his yukata—Tenzou's castoffs (which had become Sai's clothing briefly) had become Naruto's clothing, allowing him a few changes of clothes every week. Sakura looked up at him where he squatted on the porch, her hands grimy from weeding the garden. His big blue eyes pleaded with her, his tongue barely in check as he tried to make his case. The past weeks had been interesting as he ran into the problem that despite Ume and Sakura's appearances, they didn't speak whatever nonsense he'd hoped for.

"I don't know, Naruto, you should ask Tenzou."

"But Tenzou-san hates fishing, he'll say no!"

While Ume tried to corral him away from her daughter, Naruto routinely escaped and sat on his haunches near wherever Sakura was, talking lightning fast, often reverting to that gibberish he spoke. That first afternoon, nearly a month ago, had been awkward as Naruto had mostly stared at her—of course, that was probably because Kakashi had slapped his hands away from her initially. The yellow haired man had approached her with his arms outstretched, grinning as though he meant to embrace her. The days afterwards he kept his distance, wary of Kakashi who was never far from her side. They had him rooming with Tenzou and Sai in the rapidly filling house.

"Ask Sai, then, Naruto."

Sakura decided—upon seeing that Naruto would be staying with them for the time being—that hinting would get her nowhere and had told Kakashi in bold terms that they would have to change the layout of the house complex soon because they were running out of room. More rooms were required if he wanted to keep certain rooms designated as he wanted them to be. Sai chose that moment to make himself known, having ghosted out to the porch shortly after Naruto did.

"Sakura-san, you said yesterday that one of your commissions is completed—would you like me to deliver it to town?" Sakura sighed carefully so as not to start coughing—something which invariably had Kakashi coming into whatever room she was in and removing whatever was in her hands  out of her hands. She needed that commission delivered sooner rather than later, just to make sure that she collected full-price on the small outfit. She also didn't want to have to watch Naruto pout for the rest of the night.

"Please deliver it for me, Sai, that would be wonderful. Naruto, I will ask Kakashi if he will go fishing for you." Which meant she was sentencing Tenzou to fishing duty because Kakashi hated fishing and foisted it onto Tenzou whenever possible.

The days began to warm towards summer and the illness residing in her lungs dissipated—both of these were welcome changes to the brisk weather of spring and the misery of her sickness. An even more welcome change was the evidence that her child had not been victim of the fevers and coughing. There had been no blood indicating a miscarriage, but she had feared she'd lost the baby nonetheless. The firming and eventual growth of her lower abdomen had been cause for celebration for herself and Kakashi, even though he insisted that he would have blamed himself if she had miscarried. Kurenai, who Sakura was finally well enough to see in person, visited often—bringing her little girl who was now a few weeks old. Little Ayame was a blessing from the gods to Kurenai, and she loved the little girl through any fuss the child could muster.

Kakashi's rice crop was growing well—Asuma had spared no expense on the help he'd hired so many weeks ago, after all it had been the first time the daimyo's nephew had been able to heap his considerable wealth onto his old friend. Kakashi and Tenzou spent their mornings out in the fields, making sure everything was as it should be, and then came back to the house at around midday. Tenzou would grab Naruto and have the young man help with the chores while Sai trailed behind them as was his habit. Sometimes he carried his small ink set and paper with him, sometimes he did not.

Kakashi meanwhile would come back into the house and speak with her father, the two of them being well educated in their youth and having much to talk about. Sakura and her mother worked as quickly as they could on the remaining commissions from the village women, sitting in the room where her parents slept at night and by day she did her sewing in.

* * *

 

Again it was the smell which had Orochimaru's complete attention. That morning had dawned early—summer would soon be upon them—and with it came a note from Lord Gama, Ietsuna's most trusted advisor of recent years, that later in the afternoon Sasuke would be arriving at the house. Orochimaru had taken the time to bathe, giving his skin and hair the proper attention so as to be flawless when the young man arrived. Hours ago he had idly wondered how he would know of Sasuke's arrival—a messenger accompanying him? Or perhaps a litter, showing the deference to be given the heir-to-be of a Kyoto lord? Now as he stood in the courtyard, awaiting Sasuke's arrival into it, Orochimaru  knew what Gama had done.

He glanced away at the last moment as the servants bearing the small stretcher entered the courtyard. He had seen and smelt death before, it was not something to be forgotten.

"The shogun extends his apologies, it would appear that one of the other prisoners strangled Uchiwa Sasuke a few days ago—they're not fed every day so it was only this morning that he was found. Lord Gama extracted a confession out of Uchiwa Itachi who claims he murdered his younger brother out of religious superstition shortly after Uchiwa Sasuke had a visitor."

Orochimaru held a sleeve against his nose, trying to keep the smell at bay. He didn't look at the body, he didn't need to know. His mind was turned towards Gama Jiraiya. The man had been his rival since he was a teenager—they practiced at the same dojo, often sparring against one another, as their mentors looked on. Gama had never been as elegant as himself, but there had been a certain finesse in the way he conducted the rest of his life—never forcing, never showing his hand too soon, and always seeming to throw his lot in with the victor. Orochimaru's own fortunes varied, but were usually good—and Gama was a good enough man back then to never shame him. They could have been considered friends, Orochimaru mused as he turned around so as not to accidentally glance at the body—the body of the man Gama had probably had killed out of spite . If not for that damned woman, we would be friends still.

He had seen her, in the months before she was to be married to Gama Jiraiya, and had wanted her. A sudden greed had possessed him one night in Kyoto, only hours after Gama had left for Edo. Orochimaru had done it, he told himself in later years, just to make sure that Gama for once would not win, in this case the woman's virtue—he had certainly not done it for that stupid princess to fall pregnant, to bear a child. He had refused to claim the infant as his own, and the reactions of Gama's family and that of hers were hardly his fault. If his sister or daughter had a child with no father to claim it, he would have drowned the baby. Certainly not  himself . Silly woman.

People reacted in the strangest of ways, Orochimaru decided. He glanced once at the rotten mess that had been Uchiwa Sasuke just a week ago.

"Get rid of it. Burn it for all I care," he said as he started back inside to sulk at the loss of so willing a companion. The smell of the body followed him, however, and soon Orochimaru was back in the bathhouse trying to scrub the scent from his hair and skin.

* * *

 

Tenzou wanted to complain, he really did. He hated fishing, it was boring and tedious, and scaly and slimy and fish smelt awful—and that wasn't the half of it. The only things which made today's trip to the river bearable were Naruto's fascination with fish and the warm weather of almost-summer. The yellow-haired man took everything in his life in stride, only stumbling occasionally when he just didn't know what he was supposed to have done. Kakashi was comfortable around the foreigner, he mused to himself, settling down in the shade with his fishing pole. Kakashi's trust meant that Tenzou would trust him.

He was happy to be out of the house. Ume was spending the day across the fields with Kurenai, helping her around the house mostly, and Masaki was on a trip to Iimori to sign the last official documents concerning selling his business. This meant it was easy to get the last three guests out of the house and give Sakura and Kakashi some desperately needed time alone for the first time since Kakashi had come home—Tenzou had seen the longing for that privacy on Kakashi's face when he'd asked Tenzou to take Naruto fishing for their supper, and he'd heard it in Sakura's voice as she sent Sai on his way towards town.

For being married for such a dull reason as they had been, Kakashi and Sakura had endured a great deal more than either of them had probably ever expected out of life. It had been just over a year now since they'd married, lifting some burdens off of Tenzou's back while laying on others that Kakashi had once been obliged to do. For the first time in a long time, however, Tenzou felt contented in this life as it was. With so many people around the house the chores were reduced for each person, and he had become much more akin to a steward of the house than a servant of it.

It was not the life which Kakashi and Asuma enjoyed, but it now offered more options than it had a year ago. He could perhaps marry and build a small home a little away from the family house, continuing his life in service to the Hatake but carving out a little independence for himself. Although if Tenzou were very honest with himself, it was mostly to escape any further possibility of ever overhearing the lord and lady of the house  engaging in anything privately.

If there was anything  to hear, he didn't want to be around for it. Little did he know that this particular afternoon there was nothing to overhear.

Sitting outside on the porch with Sakura was Kakashi's favorite thing to do since he'd come home. He spent at least some of each afternoon holding her in some way, either dozing or reading or talking about the future. He told her small stories now and then about his trip to Edo, such as how he'd found Naruto and how Iruka had found him. Sakura would smile even with her eyes closed, leaning against him safely.

Today was different as their house was quiet around them, only the occasional birdsong breaking the silence. Sitting behind her allowed Kakashi to rest his chin on her shoulder, one arm looped around her while the other held her hand. Sakura breathed easily, no longer so strained or rasping.

"My mother says that our little one will come with the rice crop," her voice drifted out, not stating anything directly and not asking for a response. Kakashi hugged her closer to him. He wanted so badly to tell her that her worth to him was not what she could do but who she was—but the last time he had tried to explain it to her she hadn't understood. It was enough to accept her excitement.

"I had wondered, but I wasn't sure how to ask," he said, allowing her to tug his hand towards her abdomen and rest it there. Hopefully there would be no major disasters to herald the birth of their child as there had been at its conception.

* * *

 

Anko was feeling distinctively apathetic about her recent embroidery project. Her father had had her trained in it at a young age—it was a good skill to have to appeal to the most possible marriage prospects. He'd been unable to marry her to anyone higher ranking than a country daimyo, but he had been correct that the skill had appealed to her father-in-law and her husband. It gave her a certain quaintness, her father had said when telling her about the husband he'd found for her. Around her it was quiet in the rooms Lord Gama had given them—an hour ago her husband had been summoned suddenly by the man, and while he had grimaced as he left, Anko hadn't felt the least bit sorry for him. Gama had rescued them from the fire two months ago and had had them living here ever since—living at his beck and call was the least they could do to repay him for his unusual kindness.

She set aside the cloth and needle finally, deciding she would look to that craft again when Iruka was around to see her being particularly wifely. Instead Anko stood and padded over to her private writing desk, an elegant little thing her brother had made for her when she turned ten. Anko's father had given it to her a few months after he had sent her brother away. The carvings on the sides were simple, but she loved it and tried to keep it as nice as possible. Inside it she kept her diaries and letters, as well as plans for various eventualities. Such as the possibility that she couldn't give Iruka the heirs he needed—and the women she approved or disapproved of doing the job for her and her husband.

Also inside was a letter she'd gotten yesterday from her father. He wanted to host her at his home and have her meet the man he was going to make his heir, and was planning on having her visit tomorrow or the next day. Anko was not looking forward to it, since he said he  required her presence and it meant she would have to tell Iruka where she was going and why he could not come with her. Not to mention Lord Gama would probably have her followed. It was going to be unpleasant all around—her father had been pretending for years about certain things involving his relationship with the young man he'd mentored. Anko thought it was more than sick, and was glad that she had been married out of the family.

"Anko! Anko, we have to pack!" Iruka's voice called out from the hallway, his feet almost carrying him through the rice paper of the shoji when he skidded to a stop just outside of their rooms.

"Why?" she said, her eyebrows drawing close together as she set aside the letters she had been looking through. Her hands rested protectively on her little writing desk as she waited for Iruka to catch his breath and bearing a little.

"Lord Gama is taking us with him to Fujimi! We leave tonight—well, within the hour he will summon us and we must have bags to travel with. He says that the rest of our belongings will be sent along afterwards, but that we have to leave as soon as possible," Iruka's voice rose with excitement in such a way that Anko barely kept herself from batting a hand at him to quiet him. Didn't he know that anyone could overhear him and that castles in particular were good at having ears in the rafters and eyes in the walls? There was a reason, she reminded herself, that she'd decided for the last three years that Iruka was not fit to be a parent.

Anko glanced at her desk, boxed up prettily with all of her important papers inside. She had never actually been to Fujimi—she and Iruka had been married here in Edo, she had always lived in Edo aside from a few weeks each year in her childhood where she had been in Kyoto with her father. It worried her, to travel with everything she had—all of her secrets—to a place where she knew no one save for Iruka. But this trip to Fujimi was a great deal easier to look forward to than the visit her father had wanted, so she decided to let his letter slip her mind. After all, Iruka's wishes would always be more important than her father's.

* * *

 

"Tenzou, Tenzou! The birds!"

Tenzou drew in a slow, calming breath as he recast his fishing pole. Naruto had been eating away slowly at his nerves all afternoon to such an extent he had started to prefer the act of fishing over interacting with the younger man. Naruto had originally wanted to take a swim but had decided against it when Tenzou had mentioned that this was the river the peasants would send their dead down if they couldn't afford a proper funeral for them—the river would take the body back to Buddha swifter than they could. Naruto had screamed and hollered at the idea of such a funeral—although Tenzou wasn't sure if the full meaning of the explanation had gotten to the boy, if perhaps Naruto had thought the river would eat him instead. He didn't ask for clarification, because Naruto had turned his attention towards climbing a tree whose branches overlooked the water, trying to see fish so that he could tell Tenzou where to cast his line. He'd fallen in three times so far.

"The birds are singing because summer is coming, Naruto."

"No, no, they sound just like they did in Edo—I thought that they were only  in Edo, though, because I never heard them here before. Not for a whole month! Don't they sound pretty?"

Tenzou listened for a few long moments. The birds were indeed calling fiercely today compared to yesterday and the day before. But it was warmer and sunnier today, and it  was  coming on towards summer. Their nests were likely full of chicks needing to be fed, and the presence of two noisy men near the river was probably terrifying to their small souls. There were a few calls he'd never heard before, but birds were birds to him. He preferred quiet forests over noisy ones anyway.

"I suppose they do, Naruto, but we'll be done with this chore after a few more fish so get your fill of them soon." Naruto grinned and tried to reach for a higher branch, one which Tenzou briefly considered warning him was rotten like the last three. However as the yellow haired man's hands reached higher up, Tenzou found himself more in need of a laugh and less of the mind to give warning.

So it was that Naruto plunged for a fourth time into the "cursed" river, causing the birds to trill even louder as though they were laughing at his misfortune. Tenzou smiled as well as Naruto sputtered and flung himself towards the riverbank. This was actually the best time he'd ever had, being sent fishing for the family.

I could really get used to this sort of entertainment .

* * *

 

The box he carried the finished commission in was light in his arms. Inside was a sky blue child's haori as well as much darker blue hakama. Both were embroidered with tiny waves—on the haori they trailed slowly from the left shoulder to the right hip in deeper colors. Sakura had dotted specks of white along the tops of a few of them, a choppy sea for the five year old boy who was to wear the garments. His own well-tailored clothing gained weight suddenly, as he realized just how much clothing Sakura was responsible for. He would have to see to it that she got some proper servants around her house, she truly deserved a much easier life than she had had up until now.

As usual the walk was his favorite part of living here in Fujimi. He rarely enjoyed birdsong while in Edo, trying to pick out the real birds from the calls of his brothers and enemies of his father—but here in the northern country a bird's song was nothing more. He basked in it, despite a nagging worry that his master would likely be ruthless in retraining him once he returned to Edo. He worried for Kakashi and Sakura, what they would do without him around the house. He wasn't there  for them , but he looked after them nonetheless. No doubt the merchants in town would begin overcharging them the moment he and his threats disappeared, and it seemed that it was only by his bribes that they were civil towards Sakura at all.

Perhaps the shichi-go-san commissions would soften their hearts as they saw so many little children clothed in her splendid needlework. He would ask his father to pay Sakura some tribute, her skills would have been in high demand in either Edo or Kyoto, he was sure of it. Besides, his father had expressed interest in meeting Kakashi's wife in his last letter. He had also hinted of soon visiting Fujimi to collect his goods, after so many months of putting it off. He of course was surprised at his father's decision, but there was no accounting for impatience or intrigues at the court.

Arriving into town he adopted his customary expression—slightly addled, and sweetly naïve. There was no reason anyone in Fujimi should suspect him of having recovered all of his wits, least of all his hosts but this also included the villagers. With this in mind, he asked around for the house of the family he was delivering the commission to—despite having memorized the village months ago, attention to details such as where someone lived were key. He knew where he was going, but there was no reason for him to know such—so he asked, sweet and slightly addled. The woman was in the front of her yard tending to her small garden when he hailed her. Her hair was jet black but had a dozen or so silvery white strands shot through it. Next to her a young girl of perhaps thirteen or fourteen held onto a two year old child and tried to retie the cord keeping the toddler's robe closed. The child swerved in and out of her reach despite constant scolding.

"My hostess has finished the commission you sought from her for your son," he said with a broad smile which stretched a tad too wide and didn't reach his eyes. She dusted the soil from her hands as she stood, reaching for the box. When she touched it and tried to take it out of his hands, he tightened his grip.

"And she requires payment in full. She was ill soon after you obtained her services and since recovering has worked nonstop to deliver it to you earlier than you requested. Her husband Hatake-sama told me to make sure he does not have to visit town to…straighten anything out."

Kakashi had done nothing of the sort—he had been out in the fields when Sakura had dispatched him to town, and had no opinion of what the villagers did. However, he felt that the Hatake man would of course step in to fix any situation which arose regarding Sakura's needlework and the prices she set for those who asked for it. Personally he felt, regardless of whatever her husband or parents said, that better work could not be found outside of the tailors for the royal family. There was little, he knew, that could sway his opinion once he made it—because even his master, who enjoyed taking part in the lifestyle of the imperial family from time to time, did not wear better clothing than Hatake Kakashi did from day to day.

The woman's mouth pinched when a stronger tug did not grant her wish of taking the box from him.

"I will get the money from inside, however I would like to see it before I give it to you." He renewed his smile, which had slipped a little.

"I fear that is impossible, my host has entrusted me with this job—it is part of Hatake-sama's livelihood you know, and a samurai would not stake their livelihood on substandard work. Besides, my hostess has worked her magic on your order, it will bring your son luck for many years. She is quite too liberal with it, in my opinion."

The woman's mouth turned into an outright frown as she turned away from him to go inside. He toned his smile down to a more complacent one, glancing once at the teenager and the toddler she was holding onto.  Three children already,  he mused to himself , it must be such a burden to be more than a peasant but less than a samurai with so many mouths to feed. The girl glanced suspiciously at him as well, holding her small sibling closer to her body despite the wriggling of the other child. He was quite glad he felt no inclination to sire children of his own—his calling was in guarding, painting, and teaching, and thankfully his father and parents knew that.

"You will have to lay down the box to count it, surely you could hand it over to me instead?" she said as she returned, grumpy and upset at the amount of trouble he was causing her. He, however, felt that she should count herself lucky. He had had to hurt the cloth dealer a few months ago—just a splinter under a fingernail, but the thing was long enough to prove his point and to get things rolling properly. This discontented woman had dealt with his nicest and most polished public side. She hadn't even managed to make him threaten her outright, and this was after trying his patience for far longer than most residents of Fujimi did.

In one of her hands a little satchel dangled, as though she hoped he would jump for it. Pathetic.

"No, I'm quite sure I can hold it with one hand while you count the money into my free one, if it pleases you," he said sweetly to her. Once she had begrudgingly counted every last coin into his hands, he gave her the parcel and then snatched away the pouch she'd taken the money out of—he had to carry it in  something . He hummed a few notes to himself as he turned back towards the middle of town, wondering once again how he could force Fujimi into behaving for the Hatake family in his absence. The woman and her commission were unfortunately not the anomaly but rather the norm.

"Sai, Sai, there is a man at the inn asking for an escort out to the Hatake land, you should find him and take him," shouted the postman as he passed by, the man was his highest paid informant. He smiled and waved as he passed, following in the direction the older man pointed toward. There was only one man who knew of his current whereabouts, and he was sure he would be glad to meet him.

* * *

 

Jiraiya's trip from Edo had been hectic. The Sarutobi heir had had to share his horse with his wife because she was a hopeless rider. That, however, was mostly because she fretted constantly over the belongings she'd brought with her—Jiraiya noticed she cast many glances towards one pack in particular and he wondered just what was inside. He curbed his curiosity, however, and didn't ask her—he would have one of his sons take a look later probably. He made no conversation with either of his guests, preferring to look ahead and try to plan his next moves. He hadn't done anything this rash in decades it felt like, with no delicately laid planning behind his decisions. Everything was set in place, there was no reason to continue to hem and haw. But it gnawed at him in a way which was wholly unfamiliar—finally after five years of searching and preparation, he was ready to take the plunge and find the man who would be his son. A true son, not an orphan foundling raised by his wife's family to be loyal to him to the death.

His daughter rode at his side, her back straight and confident. Her hair was elegantly pinned up and if he squinted he could see where she had three knives hidden in her straight black tresses. She was every bit her mother's child as well as his. Jiraiya was proud of her for taking his orders in stride. Not every person under his command would have been as pliable to his idea as she was. He had always been happy to call her his child, but her intrinsic understanding of his plans, her ability to see behind his subterfuge, and her ease at giving him advice—all of it summed up to Jiraiya being quite proud of her as well as admiring her equally intelligent mother.

He didn't love her mother, Chiyo, even after all these years, but he had grown to respect her greatly. Besides, a woman who knew so many ways to garrote a man deserved a healthy amount of respect, he felt. His Tsunade-hime had been dead for a year when his wife had come to live in his house, a pale imitation of the woman he had wanted to marry. The happiness he shared with her was her beautiful daughter, a girl with his unfortunate nose and her mother's beautiful eyes. Chiyo had gone back to her father's house when their daughter was three, raising the girl to be as quietly deadly as the rest of her family. He wanted it no other way.

Jiraiya wondered what Tsunade-hime's son looked like. Would he have her hair? Or Orochimaru's? Was his face reflective of the sweet shape hers had taken, or was it square like his old rival's? He had heard precious little as to the young man's appearance, only of his continued well-being which was assurance enough in the previous months. He had handpicked the best man for the job last spring, and had sent him out to find out if the latest lead was a credible one, and if the town of Fujimi was the town where his soon to be son spent his years banished from Orochimaru's court. Jiraiya was glad, though, that the boy had been banished. It allowed him the opening he needed, meaning he got his way with ease.

Tsunade-hime's ghost, which was never far from Jiraiya's mind, smiled in contentment that he'd finally found the child which they should have shared. Their parents had agreed to break their engagement at the news she was to bear another man's child—despite Jiraiya's protests that he would raise the child as his own, that he loved Tsunade-hime more than that. She had written him a letter telling him who had left her in such a state, the words barely legible through the tears of rage which had built up in his eyes as he read it—Hebi Orochimaru, his greatest rival since boyhood, had stolen forever his precious Tsunade-hime. Jiraiya had been all of twenty, and had had no power in the court to at least force Orochimaru into marrying Tsunade-hime. He had wanted to kill the man, and had even gone so far as to plot how he would do it. Those plans had evaporated in the aftershocks of his beloved's death—his hopes and dreams had withered to nothing after she was taken from him.

His father had married him to Chiyo, who was the heiress of the shogun's personal shinobi house. She had consented to living with him only long enough give him a daughter before withdrawing back to her father's house. She and Jiraiya lived a marriage of partnership now, he had his network of adopted sons and she had her ninja cousins. She had trained their daughter as a killer, and the girl acted as her own bodyguard for the most part when she wasn't acting as Jiraiya's.

Soon she would act as bodyguard for Tsunade-hime's son. She would come with him to collect the young man, and they would send Iruka and his wife on to Sarutobi Hiruzen's house. He would send probably five or six of those accompanying their party with the young couple. The rest would come with him.

* * *

 

"Father, I am glad to see you in such good health. Sister, you as well," he said, bowing deeply in front of the tall white haired man. His master bowed slightly as well, acknowledging him just enough not to cause a scene. He cocked his head to the side, pointing southwest with his chin. If for any reason he was unable to accompany them, his master knew the road.

"I came as quickly as my duties would allow, my son. Now, your letter said you owe your life to your hosts—please take me to them."

"Hatake-sama will be pleased to know that I have remembered myself. He has been addressing me as 'Sai,' in recent months," he said as he came out of his bow and turned to leave town.

His master nodded slowly, and birdsong rose up at his nod. He counted how many his master had brought with him—at least a dozen of his brothers had their eyes on them and he felt relief course through him at this. He hadn't lost his edge in this manner at least. As they left the town gate, he quieted his steps into silence, not saying anything because he hadn't been spoken to. The master's daughter rode on her horse while he led it. His master walked beside him, silent until the town was well behind them.

"'Sai,' is a fine name, would you keep it if given the chance?" The painter's heart seized in his chest at the thought of being given a name and what went with it. He could remember when one of his older brothers had no longer been able to keep up, and his master had given him a name and a place to live out his days—

"Surely I am still of use to you, you would not send me away—"

"I had no thought in my mind of doing such, but if you are to watch over my son, surely he will want to call you something. I am not going to bet his life on only my daughter's skills. Now, does the name 'Sai,' please you or would you prefer another?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: Samurai would change their name upon reaching "adulthood," once their shudo mentorship had run its course. Whereas their childhood name had been forced on them, their adult name (or names, I'll get to that) could reflect their loyalty or patrons to their family. Sometimes samurai would change their names several times throughout their lives (Tokugawa Ieyasu changed his like five times if I remember correctly), and then when they died they'd be given a different, Buddhist death-name. For all those boys named Sue, sort of idea.
> 
> Funfact: Hideki means "splendid opportunity," and Tenzou means "divine creation." No, Tenzou will not be going by Hideki, silly-faces. Guess-channel is open as to what name he's going to take in the futuuuure…
> 
> Funfact: The 17th century Tokugawa allegedly kept close ties with one of the last, large shinobi clans and had them guard one of the gates leading into Edo (the east gate I think). So there's that!
> 
> Funfact: Tokugawa Ietsuna had five regents who ruled for him during his minority, four of whom I could easily find the names for and one of whom I could not. Cue Jiraiya!
> 
> Funfact: Shinobi and Ninja DID exist, just not as we see them now. They did "come out of nowhere," and did occasionally kill people, etc, but revenge and espionage in feudal Japan operated at a glacial pace compared to the western ideas of such things. A shinobi would be planted in a large household as a gardener or a cook or a maid or something, and they'd spend months or years just working there. Once they gained a certain amount of trust within the household they'd gather information or shank someone, or whatever. SilverShine used this to great effect with House of Crows, if you want an example.
> 
> The all-black clothing of ninja developed because of how Westerners saw Japanese theater. Japanese theater differs from Western in that Western tries as hard as possible to make it easy for the viewer to suspend disbelief—Japanese theater basically says "You're watching a play. If you see non-play things, DEAL WITH IT." This is important because stage hands for Japanese plays wore all black and were to be ignored. So when the play required a ninja to shank someone or somesuch, the actor would dress up as a stage hand. So yeah, people equated that to how ninja dressed just normally.
> 
> Funfact: The super speed, supernatural abilities of ninja were actually largely myths created by the old shinobi families to increase their mystique and basically make people crap their pants at the thought of shinobi running around. Shinobi were also terrifying in a society where no one moved between classes, and if they did they moved ONE class. Shinobi were high born enough to be trained in how to read, write, fight, and they would dress up as a cook for three years just to poison some guy. Dressing up as a higher class was frowned on, but understood—no one wants to be on the bottom. Dressing up as someone of a lower class? Incomprehensible, therefore all the more terrifying when your gardener shows up in your room one night knowing his way around a blade.
> 
> Funfact: Shunga authors often remained anonymous in the mid to late 17th because of government crackdowns on their pervy literature. So yeah. It remained widely read though, so there's that…
> 
> Funfact: Caste systems suck because those who are of a higher caste than you get to tell you what to do. So that's where Tenzou is here, and I think I covered that well enough in the chapter.
> 
> Funfact: While there was a samurai class, this again had hierarchies and despite having land and such, Kakashi isn't really more than an armed farmer compared to Sarutobi-sama, or Iruka, or Jiraiya. And mouthing off in this time period in this society didn't get you anywhere but dead. … well, a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the idea? Yes.

Orochimaru woke up late and waited a few hours before dragging himself through the motions of getting ready for his day visiting the court of the Shogun. Anko had failed to show up yesterday, but that was almost a consolation after Sasuke's… delivery two days ago. His daughter had inherited his flashing, judging eyes, and he was in no mood to see her exulting over the death of the lover she so disapproved of. Besides, she was apparently being sheltered by Gama Jiraiya and that hateful man would have no doubt invented some reason to detain her even if she  had wanted to come. As he bathed—a solitary exercise for him unless sharing the space with a lover—he looked at his long fingered hands, the pale skin holding all of him together.

He was getting old—aging far more gracefully than Jiraiya, although that was easy because the man grew more weathered and grizzled every year. He could feel the wrinkles on his face, kept barely at bay by his constantly neutral expressions. There was something in his bones, also, that told him he was in the darker half of his life. He would be  fifty six this year. Orochimaru shivered despite the hot water surrounding his body.

Jiraiya had seen to it that Orochimaru had lost his oh-so-promising heir, leaving him bereft. Unless he found another, his position within the house would pass to a minor niece or nephew or perhaps a cousin from one of the second-rate families of the clan. His daughter was married to a country noble, destined to produce heirs for a powerless daimyo. Orochimaru didn't berate himself for marrying her off before he had an heir secured—when he had married her off,  he did have an heir secured. Sasuke had been all of thirteen, but had been  quite amenable to the idea of being adopted by a lord from Kyoto with connections to even greater power. Sasuke's actions had been natural ones, and Orochimaru had been more than willing to play along in return for the young man's devotion. The entire thing was to be expected, of course.  Illegitimate  sons got more consideration than  second sons did in the world, everyone knew that and everyone knew where they'd stashed their bastards just in case of a rainy day or scandal—!

Right in the midst of pouring steaming water over his body and combing his fingers through his long hair, Orochimaru suddenly realized his oversight. A grown, twenty seven year old,  heir-shaped oversight. He could find another lover easily, but not one groomed since puberty to lead a clan. Sasuke had been a rare gift of the gods. But  that boy,  his unwanted son—that boy had been deprived of so much in the world that he would be  very willing to take his place as Orochimaru's son and undergo the rigorous training he would need to assume Orochimaru's place as head of the clan.

That horrid princess, it seemed, had actually proved herself useful a quarter century after her death. His awkward bastard son had been the connection that won his daughter, Anko, the hand of the future Sarutobi daimyo, Umino Iruka—Sarutobi Hiruzen had a soft spot for bastards and had taken  Tenzou in when Orochimaru had needed to properly hide him—and Anko's connection to that family would allow Orochimaru to quietly collect what was his. So nice of those country bumpkins to keep his son safe over the years—yes, Tenzou would do nicely as his newly-legitimate son indeed.

If he remembered correctly, the boy even took after him a fair amount. Settling into the tub for a well-deserved soak, Orochimaru decided he would collect the boy in the autumn, and present him at court in the spring. Satisfied with his come-back to Jiraiya's murderous and grisly actions, Orochimaru summoned one of his servants into the bathhouse to  help him relax .

* * *

 

Very briefly there was a flurry of birdsong, before the flock seemed to move towards better fields than his own—Kakashi's scarecrows were some of the best in the valley. He'd learned how to make them so well after choosing the name he would grow old with—if he couldn't make a proper scarecrow after naming himself after one, he wouldn't be able to bear the shame. His choice, when he was fourteen, to become  Kakashi had been to reassure his father that he would never leave the family—the Uchiwa family had been making noises of perhaps adopting him by marriage, whispers of which had to have reached his father Sakumo's ears.

Rather than tell his father that such fears were unfounded, Kakashi had chosen the path of action—a scarecrow never left the field it was first placed in. It might be modified, and wear different clothes, but it would remain there until it fell to pieces. Kakashi was not so bad a name, either—certainly better than his childhood "Enoki," the name his father had quarreled with his mother over. His mother Shiori had wanted to name him "Botan," which his father had strongly disagreed with.

Sakura was deeply asleep in his arms, warmed by him at her back and the early afternoon sunlight, coupled with a few breaths of cool aired breezes. He swept one hand along her curved stomach and kissed her ear. They would name their son Botan—or Akahana if they had a girl. He liked the idea of naming his children after flowers, as Sakura's family had done. Besides, the name  Botan already felt like a name which belonged in the family. Or, he smirked a little as he heard two voices playfully quarreling in the distance, perhaps  Tenzou in honor of the servant-soon-to-be-babysitter.

A few birds twittered, probably hoping for a bit of the fish Tenzou and Naruto had gotten. The yellow haired man plowed through fish so fast that they had had to start buying extra dried cod from the merchant in town—Masaki had bargained to lower the price, having worked with many of the merchants in the region for many years; and Sakura said that they always undercharged Sai for some reason, leaving them with a hefty amount of money left over in their budget. As Tenzou came around the fence—and Naruto climbed over it, preferring to plough straight ahead no matter the obstacle—Kakashi pressed his lips against Sakura's hair. He had thought that the Uchiwa family had the best-managed homes he'd ever seen, but that was before Sakura had come here as his wife. Now he knew that his own home was far better organized than any he'd ever lived in—she always knew how much food they needed, their clothing was always clean and beautifully kept, and she worked within a miniscule budget so as to save as much money as possible from the rest.

"Naruto, hush," Tenzou said softly as Naruto squawked as he failed to land properly from jumping down from the fence. Sakura twitched a little but didn't wake. The birds—Kakashi had never  heard so many it felt like—squawked along with the foreigner for a little but soon quieted. One seemed to be on the house, calling shrilly every now and then until another bird sang out briefly. Tenzou and Kakashi twisted their faces a little at the thought of a bird on the roof—once they'd had a family of birds take up residence on the very peak of the roof, and it had been a young Tenzou's job to shoo them out after Kakashi had fallen and nearly broken his knee.

"Is Sai home yet?"

"No, although he should be returning soon."

"I see—we were a little late ourselves, Naruto fell into the river several more times than I think he wanted to and had to dry out. But we have his precious fish, which counts for something yes?"

"Tenzou dropped me into the people-eating river on purpose, Kakashi!" Naruto was a testament to Kakashi's patience in that this loud, Sakura-waking outburst brought out only a blink in him and a long glance towards Tenzou. The brown haired man immediately had his hands up in defense.

"I maybe didn't tell him that the whole tree he was climbing was rotten through. I just told him not to climb it, everything that happened to him he did to himself," Kakashi rolled his eyes, and Sakura laughed, still a little sleepy from the nap she'd been interrupted from. Naruto, however, squawked again and lunged at Tenzou who quickly managed to drop the fish without spilling them too horribly. As they wrestled against one another, Kakashi indulged in a bit of cackling laughter at the sight of two grown men rolling over each other like children fighting over a toy. Tenzou, of course, had the disadvantage because he'd been ambushed but was managing to hold his own and turn the fight towards his favor.

Sakura joined in with a few more giggles of her own at the curses Naruto and Tenzou were growling at one another as Tenzou valiantly tried to have the fight away from the summer vegetable crop. Kakashi grinned between egging the two of them on until he decided that they'd had enough fun and he needed to put an end to it. As he stood up and stretched his legs, the shoji behind him hissed a little as it opened.

"Sai, come help me—"

Sai stood on the porch, quite at ease as Gama Jiraiya slipped quietly out of the house and onto the deck of the porch. Kakashi choked on his words as he thought of the million things he had to do at once—he had to bow, and Sakura as well—actually no, he had to  hide Sakura—and he had to get Tenzou and Naruto to stop fighting and bow as well and—

"Sai, please, help those two help themselves," a woman's voice said from behind Jiraiya, saving Kakashi from one of his problems but leaving him still paralyzed. A black haired woman—pretty, but not really his type anymore—settled herself down next to Jiraiya, her hands folded in her lap elegantly. Sai moved with a silent, fluid grace towards where Tenzou seemed to be trying to strangle Naruto. His movements were calculated and precise as he pried the two men apart. He slapped Naruto once on the side of the head with a short insult to the character of his manhood, and dusted Tenzou off briefly—mostly focusing on pulling bits of grass out of Tenzou's brown hair.

Kakashi's knees wavered and he managed to make the collapse look nearly graceful as he bowed his head completely to the terrifying old man standing not three feet from him. The birds tittered to themselves as Sai prodded Naruto and Tenzou up the steps to sit with Kakashi and Sakura, and the woman who had come with Lord Gama.  The birds . Kakashi's vision blurred out of focus for a moment as he realized that the usual migrations of birds in the area left the transition between summer and spring nearly silent—and that all day the birds had been  on fire  with song. His stomach knotted in on itself as he looked at Sai out of the corner of his eye, and remembered the bird singing so stridently from the rooftop not twenty minutes ago.

It had clicked into place immediately, why Sai knew and obeyed Lord Gama, why Sai was so easily able to break up a fight between two men  determined to fight—why witless Sai always wanted to go to town and why the merchants and villagers there nearly threw their wares at him as though they feared him.

There was a shinobi on his porch. There had been a shinobi in his house during his journey to Edo. His pregnant wife had been feeding and clothing a trained killer, his servant-near-brother had been  sleeping in the same room as a mindless killing machine of a man. Sai had planted himself in their household with an ease which Kakashi had thought himself above—surely he would notice a  shinobi in his house, it would be hard to plant someone in a household of  three and a dog . The stabwounds he'd arrived with—Tenzou had said, months ago, that they were odd.  Self-inflicted . Sai knelt next to the woman Gama had brought with him, his smile just as witless as it had been this morning.  An act . An artist with enemies, wanting access to an inkstone and paper, kindly offering to go to town for the poor samurai who hosted him through a long winter—a ploy to allow him to communicate with his master. With  Gama Jiraiya .

Kakashi had met a shinobi before, as a young boy, one hired by the Uchiwa to spy on one of their fellow religious deviants—they kept close tabs on their "brothers and sisters," so as not to get caught if those "brothers and sisters," were found out by the bakufu. It was not an experience he wanted to relive. He had been probably ten or eleven, and the man had cheerfully explained in great detail how to remove fingernails with the most pain and the least blood, as well as how to reseal documents so that the recipient had no idea there had been any tampering. Shinobi were terrifying, and only used by those who had something to hide, something to steal, or against those who had a reason to be silenced.

Tenzou would never be anything more than a servant, and his mother and father-in-law would never look after their grandchildren or travel between Iimori and Fujimi ever again, and  he would never see his child or Sakura's green eyes again —

"Daughter, would you make some tea? I'm parched after that walk and it looks as though our host might pass out after his next breath. Sai, if he does please don't let him hit his head against anything," Gama said cheerfully as he took a seat, "and do relax yourselves, there's no one to see us being improper." His  daughter got up and went inside, not asking for help or even directions around the house. As Kakashi reluctantly sat up properly, he wondered if she'd been sent inside to she wouldn't see all the blood about to be spilt.

"Now, let me have a look at my boy," Gama's mouth was wide with a smile as he turned towards Tenzou and Naruto. Naruto straightened up a little and looked Gama right in the eye—at least until Sai reached out, lightning fast, and flicked his ear and then swatted his shoulder. Tenzou glanced everywhere at once, realizing that the focus was directed all on him. Gama put an elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his palm, as he studied the brown haired servant. Kakashi barely resisted fidgeting. Sakura wiggled a little, trying to sit comfortably without drawing attention to herself.

"…uhm…" Tenzou cleared his throat, clearly meaning to take Gama up on his offer of a relaxed social setting.

"You look quite like your mother, you know. Not at all like that monster who fathered you. I'm glad for that—Sai has been painfully spare on the details of your appearance over the last few months." Everything was silent for a long moment, even the…birds…were quiet. Kakashi watched Tenzou's jaw work for a little as the man tried to figure out what to say exactly—and Gama seemed more than pleased to wait.

"Please excuse me," Tenzou started, bowing shortly, "but I don't know who you are or why you care about who my parents are—or even why you're here." His dark brown eyes flicked once towards Kakashi who had nothing to offer him. When he had returned from Edo there had been little reason to talk about Gama Jiraiya—he had saved Sarutobi-sama's son, he would come to collect  Naruto at some point, and that was the end of it. The craggy old man had mentioned nothing about  Tenzou . Gama squinted his eyes and pursed his lips, obviously considering his next course of action carefully.

Kakashi suddenly wondered what Sai would have done if Sarutobi-sama had sent him to another household—gone home? Wandered over to the Hatake land just to observe the family servant? The thought made him almost ask just before Gama broke his silence.

"Your mother was a princess, a cousin of the ruling family— Tsunade-hime . She would have been my wife barring the actions of your father, a lord from Kyoto— Hebi Orochimaru . You would have been raised as my son, who I had fully planned on renaming  Hideki . And you want to know who I am?" There was a whimsy to his question despite his face betraying nothing of it.

"Yes." Tenzou was unfazed—he'd spent his youth living with Kakashi's tricks, he wasn't easily baited when it was obvious. Gama's eyes twinkled.

"I am Gama Jiraiya, one of the five regents of Shogun Ietsuna—I am the man history will forget, because I am the man that makes sure Ietsuna lives long enough to be remembered. I'm  here , Tenzou, to collect you as I was prevented from doing more than twenty years ago," he finished with a flourish.

"Why now?"

"My master believed you dead, Tenzou-sama, for twenty years. He has been carefully looking for you these last five years—"

"That's quite enough Sai," Gama said, turning his head just barely to put Sai into his peripheral vision. Kakashi's heartbeat sped up and his breathing was slow and shallow suddenly—if it had been frightening to see his  guest turn into an obedient killer before his eyes, it was eerily terrifying to see the switch between a jovial older man to this one who was so coldly in control. Kakashi's head  spun when the happy old man returned.

"Your mother's family told me you had died, which was why Tsunade-hime killed herself. It wasn't for a very long time that I found out that you had been hidden in the imperial palace for several years, and then placed under the care of your father for a few more, before disappearing once again from any records I could get my hands on. It wasn't until Orochimaru married off his daughter to a legitimized bastard from the northern country that I thought to look here."

"Father, the tea you asked for," the young woman said as she returned, gracefully kneeling down and placing their tea tray—a gift from Sakura's parents from their wedding, Kakashi remembered through the shocked fog he'd been sitting in for the past several minutes.

"Shizune, thank you," Gama said with a wide smile as his daughter filled all of the cups she'd brought out with her. Everyone else was quiet. Sai with his  fake smile—somehow, Kakashi realized, he'd always known it was fake despite everything. Sakura maintaining her most demure attitude—which must have been killing her inside, he knew, because of how tightly she clenched one of her hands. His wife probably would have been yelling at Gama by now if not for the probability that they'd all die within minutes of any raised voices. Tenzou was resolutely staring across their small circle at Gama, his hands curled into tight fists on his knees while his shoulders were rigidly straight.

Gama had a few sips of tea in pleased silence, his eyes flicking around the group and studying their faces it seemed.

"Now, I've come here to take you as my own before Orochimaru realizes that he should have claimed you as his natural son  years  ago. There wasn't a moment to lose, which is why there has been no fanfare of my grand arrival," for the first time in a long time, a smile played on Gama's lips.

"I fear I got a little carried away in depriving him of an heir—he had been just weeks away from formally adopting his young lover as his heir before the boy was arrested as a traitor. Unfortunately, his elder brother—Uchiwa Itachi—killed him about two weeks ago. I merely delivered the young man's body to my old rival."

Kakashi's blood, already thick and sluggish to his racing heart, went cold.  Itachi? Surely Gama meant another man—perhaps Fugaku, or one of the other cousins? Itachi had barely been able to stomach  meat for the thought of the suffering of the animal it came from. But…if Itachi had killed his own brother, it explained who had exposed the entire clan to the bakufu.

"You kicked a hornet's nest and then lobbed it in Lord Hebi's face, Father, which is why we had to bring along so many of my mother's sons rather than just me," the young woman said as she refilled his empty cup. Gama shot her a look, expressive in its indignation.

"Why do you need me if your wife has already given you many to choose from?" Tenzou's question was a good one. Gama's face was close to splitting in two as he answered with a grin.

"Because the boys my wife raises are orphans and foundlings, she and I are their only family aside from each other. You, Tenzou, should have been my natural son if Tsunade-hime hadn't been stolen from me.  You are going to marry my daughter to help her do  my job in a few years—also, now I don't have to bother with finding her a husband or  you a wife. Shizune and Sai will keep you safe from Orochimaru until he figures out that he can never have you. This time I will take care of keeping his greedy hands off of what is mine."

* * *

 

The white haired old man insisted that he call him "Father," but Tenzou preferred to call him "Jiraiya," for now. It was too strange, far too strange, to begin acting as though this man had always been of such a close relation to him. If anyone was his father figure, it had been Sakumo during his teen years. The patient man with large sad eyes had given him as much love as he'd given Kakashi. This old man was claiming a title which Tenzou didn't consider he deserved.

He'd tried to say as much—more than once—when  Jiraiya had taken him out for a walk, to get to know him better. They ended up sitting on one of the raised pathways in the middle of the west rice paddy. Tenzou heard various rustlings out in the rice and glared at the sounds—those ninja had best not tamper with Kakashi's rice, or Tenzou would have  words with them. Words involving gardening implements and heads.

"I hope you don't hate me in a few weeks, my boy," Jiraiya said, picking at a tiny pebble lodged in the packed earth of the walkway. Tenzou glanced at him, his elbows resting on his bent knees. He wasn't exactly sure that Jiraiya could do anything to him worse than his father already had.

"Why is that?"

"Because you are going to have to learn the sword, and the horse, and of course you must read and write—"

"I can do all of those things, Jiraiya-sama, I can do most of them quite well." He saw the craggy face next to him go slack in amazement of some sort. On one hand, Tenzou was insulted that Jiraiya thought him  that ignorant, but on the other he was pleased to have been able to surprise his would-be father. Continuing, he said, "It is not for nothing that I was given to the Hatake family after my father placed me with the Sarutobi. And it is not only duty which brings about my respect and obedience to Kakashi."

"Hatake Kakashi taught you the sword? Why, he is barely old enough to have even finished learning the art of it himself when he would have needed to tea—"

"It was his father, Hatake Sakumo, who took me on as his apprentice. He always believed, one way or another, I would come into the rank I was born to have. When he passed on a few years ago, he gifted me his swords in the hope that someday I would carry them as he had."

Jiraiya made an assenting and approving noise, still picking at the little stone—he just about had it free, too. Tenzou pursed his lips and looked away, running his tongue on the backs of his teeth. It bothered him more than he would ever admit aloud. The work as a servant was unrelenting, but he always tried to find some part of it rewarding at least—and since Kakashi had married and the gods had begun to shower favor on him, Tenzou had even started to entertain the idea of marrying, building a house separate from the main family house and living there in relative freedom. It was painful that his hopes and dreams, as simple as they might seem to this lord from Edo, were being taken away from him on a whim once again—as a child he had dreamed of finally being claimed as his father's son only to be sent away. Only now he dreamed of making a life of his own choosing, something which appeared would never happen to him.

"You really are going to take me to Edo, then? There is no way I can convince you to let me stay here?"

His companion had managed to work the little rock out of the dirt and was now rubbing his thumb over it to clean the dirt off it. Tenzou stared at the rock, slowly being polished clean in Jiraiya's hands.

"Your father will come soon enough and take you by force. You are going to be presented as  someone's son at court within the year, of that I am quite sure. Tenzou, you have the choice of either going with me and being welcomed and celebrated in my house—a house which you will be head of, with a dutiful wife, tactful servants, and the ear of the shogun should you want it. Or," Jiraiya paused for breath as well as to spit a little on the rock he held, using the moisture to lift more of the dirt off of the surface, "you may wait for Orochimaru to arrive here and terrorize the Hatake family for a second time—he will make you his heir, but he will treat you with disdain and make you feel guilty that he  had to adopt you. He  might find you a wife, but he certainly won't curtail the gossips in his households or his clan, and he himself is in disgrace after the events of last autumn." Jiraiya reached between them, his prized little stone in the palm of his hand. The little rock was clean and shone a little in the sunlight, a far cry from its appearance only minutes ago.

"You will, of course, be free to travel throughout the country once your training is completed. Since you claim to already know so much—writing  and the sword, that is an accomplishment, my boy—you will likely pick up everything else quickly. You could even come here to visit the Hatake, although their household I dare say will be much changed in the time you're gone." He dropped the stone into Tenzou's hand and pawed at his chest, looking for something.

A small notebook emerged, followed shortly by a stub of charcoal. The little book was filled with sketches, Tenzou noticed as he turned the rock over in his fingers. Jiraiya was about to put the charcoal to the paper when he looked up suddenly.

"You know Orochimaru's feelings on bastards and rural samurai, Tenzou, as well as his ideas of sentimentality. He is not inclined towards the whims of such an emotion, and as his son you should understand that better than anyone. If you turn this offer down you will not likely receive another one from me—because if you turn me down, I'll know that Orochimaru has managed to pass his idiocy down to you."

* * *

 

Sakura rescued her tea things from the woman— Shizune —and went inside, dragging Sai with her. Kakashi and Shizune followed hesitantly, probably because of how she was nearly stomping her feet. Her husband was cautious because he was smart, Shizune probably because she was just cautious in general. Sai, however, went along with her, boneless and willing as he always was. The inside of her house was exactly as she'd left it before going to doze in the sun with Kakashi—but there was something off about it now. Her green eyes flicked around the cooking area, noting where the kettle had been moved to and from the fire, the box where she kept the tea was sitting next to where Shizune had prepared it. Someone else had been in here, and picked up every item and set it back down—Sakura was sure of it. Angry, she rounded on Sai.

"Sai, why did you come here?"

His smile curved easily on his face, fake as usual. Kakashi and Shizune filed in and sat down around the fire pit where Sakura had forced Sai to sit down.

"Because my lord father ordered me to find and watch over his son. It was a happy accident that I ended up in the very household I needed to find, but I would have befriended your family soon enough if I had been placed elsewhere. I was sent here, Sakura-san, because I am one of the very best men available to Lord Gama."

"And you lied to your hosts because…?"

"I didn't lie, Sakura-san, I just didn't tell you the entire truth." Sakura felt her blood boil at how nonchalant he was about this. She didn't know much about shinobi, but Sai was acting like she should have always been probing him for more answers. He was acting like it was her fault that he had lied to them.

"And just what is the entire truth, Sai?"

Sai smiled, his eyes crunched together as though he was pleased she'd asked—his smile was warmer, a little less fake and a bit more fond as he replied. The entire truth, she found out, was a great deal closer to what he'd told them than she'd thought. She had dreamed up a glamorous lifestyle of late-nights and seduced princesses, almost a story out of Kakashi's orange book. The truth was different. Sai's fellow shinobi under Lord Gama went by routinely changed code-names, and rarely had a personal name of their own. He was also training to be an artist, to take on the series of shunga books which Lord Gama wrote in secret. And aside from spying and killing, he genuinely was useless at anything else—he knew how to read and write because of the career Lord Gama had planned for him.

His time spent here had been a holiday from a life far darker than a merchant's daughter could really imagine. A holiday for Sai had been sleeping in the same room as the man he was charged to look after, being clothed in garments more beautiful than any he'd ever worn and being fed good meals on a routine basis. They'd even bought him paints and paper, allowing him to continue practicing and to communicate with his master easily.

Sakura ignored Kakashi twitching occasionally as Sai spoke. She would ask her husband later what had shaken him so badly, but not now in front of so many people.

"My only worry," Sai said, finality coloring his tones, "is that once I am gone the people of Fujimi will once again mistreat you and your family, Sakura-san."

"There is nothing to worry about, Sai," Shizune said, speaking up for the first time in what felt like ages. She smiled, a sweet and real smile, as she continued. "Father is going to leave Kotetsu and Izumo here for the Hatake family—they went with Umino Iruka and his wife to the Sarutobi estate, but have instructions to come back here."

Sai's face brightened with real happiness that Sakura was unsure she'd ever seen properly.

"Hagane Kotetsu and Kamizuki Izumo are sons of the stewards of the Gama clan compound, but Kotetsu has an older brother who will inherit the position—they will take good care of your family, Sakura-san!"

"Sai, I am not sure we—" Kakashi's voice was heavy, and Sakura knew what he was trying to say. Their crop last fall had brought them enough money and food to support six people and their dog, and Sarutobi-sama's gift of land would probably carry them well enough. But by this fall, it would be six people, a baby, and a dog—and there was the house to look to, as it was beginning to look as if they needed another few rooms or even another building.

Shizune reached into a hidden pocket and retrieved a small, tightly wrapped cloth bundle. She handed it over to Kakashi with a small smile. He ran his fingers over it briefly before handing it to Sakura to unwrap. She gingerly undid the ties and unfolded the fabric, sorting through the papers and other items within it with increasing disbelief. Shizune's soft, confident voice was an afterthought in Sakura's mind.

"Father sent a message with Izumo to Sarutobi-sama with a redistricting plan, to better situate your lands and stipend. He plans to give your family a six hundred koku reward—surely enough to expand your house properly to afford separate servants' quarters. He will also be leaving two of my mother's sons here, to keep your family safe from any ill-conceived vengeance Lord Hebi might attempt."

Sakura had finished reading the contents of the package and touched a hand to her mouth in awe. Everything their family needed in the future was provided in the packet. Money, arranged neatly with labels—for the house, for the servants, for the tax collector—as well as documents of passage and rights of a mid-rank samurai's family. And then it seemed that Lord Gama intended to give them a reward in addition to all of this.

"My father has ached for a son for many years, Sakura-san," Shizune's voice was soft, "and in the last few has bent all of his will towards finding Tenzou without tipping of Lord Hebi. Sai's messages for several months have said that when Father arrives here to collect Tenzou, it should be recognized that he owes Tenzou's health and happiness to the kindness of the Hatake, specifically to you, Sakura-san. He believes that Fujimi has made you suffer more than your due. My father can find no reason to deny his suggestions."

Next to her, Kakashi bowed shortly—Sakura copied him a heartbeat later, still in shock. She glanced at Sai whose face gave none of his thoughts or emotions away, but surely he thought something of this. He had no reason to look after her, save perhaps pity and Sakura hated it when people pitied her. It was as though they didn't trust her abilities and talents, or that they believed a rumor they'd heard about her somewhere.

"My wife's kindness is the reason I married her," Kakashi said, an edge to his voice which soothed Sakura's ruffled temper, knowing that he had picked up on the same undertones she had, "and the suffering she endures with the villagers is because of my own folly. Sakura, would you make our guests some tea and allow them to relax from their journey? I will get Tenzou and Lord Gama." He stood up and stared long and hard at Sai as though he was trying to discern something from the other man, trying to decide if he wanted to leave her with these strangers. Sakura touched his hand and smiled up at him faintly, telling him that she could handle them—and that if she couldn't, he didn't have much better odds.

Kakashi frowned as he slipped his sandals on outside. Leaving Sakura alone went against everything he was supposed to do—he was supposed to protect her from harm, and how could he do that if he left her with two trained killers? Or more?

But he needed to accept that this was happening, to all of them, and he had a feeling he knew exactly how he could begin adjusting. Outside of the fence, he stepped onto one of the raised pathways and looked out over the half-grown rice. Just barely he could make out Lord Gama's white hair flying in the breeze. Instead of shouting, Kakashi walked quietly out to them—if he shouted, Kurenai and Ume might hear him at Asuma's house and he didn't want to cause any surprises with however many shinobi Lord Gama had brought with him. Of course, shinobi were trained to be patient, to not jump or flinch or act on impulse, and they would feel no threat from him, a country samurai who was more farmer than warrior on any given day. Hopefully.

When he was a few dozen paces away, he called out a greeting to get the attention of whoever was watching as well as Lord Gama and Tenzou. Once he was just a few steps from where the other men sat, he spoke again after he bowed his head deeply.

"Lord Gama, I wonder if you would allow me to borrow Tenzou for a few minutes? Just something we need to do at the house…"

"Of course, of course, he would probably appreciate a little time away from me to think on what his answer ought to be to my offer," Gama said, waving a charcoal-stained hand absently towards the way Kakashi had come. Gama was devoting his utter focus to the rice paper in his hands as Kakashi and Tenzou headed back to the house together. Kakashi shook his head a little, remembering that his world had gotten so much smaller in an afternoon—his favorite book series was written by Tenzou's new father. He would leave the master to his work then, because Kakashi had work of his own to attend to with Tenzou.

* * *

 

As she sat to the side of her husband's reunion with his father and one of his cousins—Iruka often spoke of how he missed his family, and in the letters she opened, the sentiment was returned by at least the old man—Anko wondered where her brother was. She had never been to Fujimi, despite the fact that her father had known Sarutobi Hiruzen because he had sent Tenzou here more than a decade ago. Glancing around at the few servants stationed at the sides of the room, Anko wondered if the gap-toothed boy with the fluffy brown hair was still here. She wondered if she would recognize him now, if perhaps he looked like their father.

"And I see Lord Gama sent your wife along with you," her father-in-law said, finally letting go of his son and sitting down across from her. Anko smiled, gracefully lifting her hand to cover her teeth as a lady ought to. Sometimes she wished she'd been born a man and been free, but then she would have had to deal with her father full time. A distasteful prospect, to say the least—it was nice to owe her attention to Iruka and his family rather than her own.

"Well," Sarutobi said with a wide smile, "since my son has returned to me in such good health, I should visit the Hatake family to thank them—your brother is with them, Anko-san. He has grown into a fine man, responsible and smart. It will be a little improper, but I think we can all make this allowance, yes?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: I wanted to have "ma" and "mo" be modified from the same stem symbol, but nothing I saw in my research foray showed them to be any sort of alike in any of the character sets. So I actually had to edit this and change some things. So there's that, look at me be awesome and have integrity!
> 
> Funotherstuff: I'm trying to reference The Tale of the Gutsy Shinobi here in this chapter, you'll hopefully see where. Yes.

Kakashi guided Tenzou away from the lord from Edo. Neither of them said anything as they headed into the house. They only barely greeted anyone in the living room, not even counting how many heads were there. Kakashi saw that Tenzou's face flushed when he glanced at Shizune, and he didn't blame his brown-haired companion—it wasn't every day that a man was told he was going to be adopted into a family by marriage. Besides, Shizune was a pretty woman, something Tenzou hadn't exactly been in the position to properly appreciate for several years. Kakashi was happy for him.

Pakkun barked once at them before Sakura shushed him with a swat to his side. The dog whined and nuzzled back into her side at the reprimand—truly, he was hardly  Kakashi's dog in any sense. Kakashi winked at her just before he turned the corner into the hallway, still leading Tenzou.

In his room he closed the one shoji which opened to the yard and then went to the tansu where his good clothing was kept carefully folded. Tenzou stood awkwardly near the door until Kakashi motioned for him to close it. Kakashi chose the comfortable hakama and kamishimo that he normally wore to town—they weren't the stiff formal pieces he saved for special events, but they were formal enough. Tenzou was obviously uncomfortable already, there was no need to add to that with anything extravagant. He turned towards Tenzou, the clothing draped over one arm, with a wan smile.

"Here, let's get you changed into these."

Tenzou knew how to put each of the garments on—but on another person, not himself. So Kakashi helped him with the ties, the arranging of folds in the fabric, and with pulling the starched collar and shoulders out correctly. Once everything was in order, with even Kakashi's nicest tabi were on Tenzou's feet, Kakashi had him kneel down so that he could do the man's hair properly. The Hatake family had been poor when he was a boy, and until Tenzou had come to live with them Kakashi had been in charge of Sakumo's formal hairstyles. It was easy to remember the motions of pulling and tying hair into submission, despite the long passage of time since he'd last done it. However, a year of caring for Sakura's hair left his hands gentle, and he never pulled harder than he needed to against the few knots left in Tenzou's hair from the minor brawl he'd gotten into with Naruto earlier. He even found a few leaves and blades of grass that Sai had missed earlier.

"Father was right about us, Kakashi," Tenzou said as Kakashi brushed out Tenzou's brown hair into a fan above the formal knot at the back of his head. Tenzou's hands were clenched into fists on top of his thighs, his head bowed a little, and his shoulders were straight and tense with nerves. Kakashi didn't speak, allowing his greatest friend—his brother—to have his piece.

"You are as patient as Buddha," Tenzou continued softly, disbelief coloring his voice. His breaths were shaky as though he was trying to contain tears, and Kakashi's heart ached for him—Tenzou was his brother, despite the differences in rank that had been between them for so long. It didn't matter that they shared no parents, Sakumo had considered them both his children and had encouraged them to act like it. Kakashi was glad that Tenzou still felt able to call Sakumo by the title of  Father . Lord Gama might pretend to deserve that name, but Kakashi knew better.

"And you are as much a prince as your mother was a princess," Kakashi finished, just as softly, when Tenzou failed to speak again. He put away the combs to where Sakura normally kept them—she occasionally bullied him into sitting for her to do his hair  properly  and would kill him if he  misplaced the elegant little combs. Kakashi hated wearing his hair formally, and avoided it as much as possible. He brought Tenzou up to stand next to him, to get a good look at the brown haired man. The change wasn't all that remarkable if he just looked at Tenzou's face—he had wept a little, Kakashi said nothing of it—but after taking a step back, Kakashi could see how his  former servant was made to fill out the uniform of a lord.

"No one would recognize you in Fujimi, Tenzou, let alone in the city—you look like you're on your way from your family compound to the shogun's court," he said, trying to smile at the prospect of Tenzou becoming a great lord in Edo. It hadn't been right, having his brother as his servant, but it had kept him close. Edo was too far a journey for someone of Kakashi's rank to make even on a mission from the daimyo—there was too much to be done at home to leave for more than a few days, really. These last few hours or days, depending on Lord Gama's temperament, were all he had left with his friend. His fully recognized  brother now that he was no longer a servant of the family.

"Come, let's show you to that woman Lord Gama wants you to marry."

* * *

 

Naruto dawdled behind the group as they went inside, shooing Pakkun into the house before sliding the shoji closed as quietly as he could. He wanted to know what that old grandpa from Edo wanted with Tenzou—he wasn't about to lose his fish dinners on account of that old man. He crept slowly around the fence after waiting as long as he could stand—everyone moved so slowly here, and he was only just now starting to get used to it. He missed home less and less—his parents, Matthew and Katherine, had passed away shortly before he'd gone to sea and after their deaths there had been little to return to.

As soon as he was around the fence he ducked down to crawl on the ground lining the rice field. There was a walkway which would take him near where Tenzou and the old grandpa had settled down. He moved as fast as he could while still being quiet—he'd gotten really good at being quiet while he'd been in Edo with Inoue-san and Kanna-san. He'd liked them—Kanna-san reminded him of his mother a little, and she had been the one to rescue him from the choking smoke of the fire. He'd been crawling on the ground then too.

Briefly he considered trying to crawl through the rice to get even closer, but the reeds made too much noise when he parted them even a little with just his hands—and Tenzou would probably hit him on the head with the hoe if he caught him. And then the brown haired man would tell Kakashi and there wouldn't be fish for a week. Naruto was very interested in the continued presence of fish in his life. So he contented himself with listening in to what the old man from Edo wanted with Tenzou—half wondering why he himself had been forgotten, half grateful that he was no longer in danger from the crazy grandpa with the wooden shoes.

Kakashi's voice called out from a dozen or so paces away and Naruto barely didn't jump at the sound—luckily Kakashi had taken a different walkway out here, or he would have found Naruto spying. But he was safe, and he remained still, his face turned to the ground and his breath shallow and quiet until Kakashi collected Tenzou and walked back towards the house—although just as he was lifting a hand to begin backing up to go back there as well, the old man spoke in a conversational tone.

Right above him.

"You know, I saw you the moment you came around the fence and trying to pretend you weren't out here was quite hard—you are incredibly loud, Kamaboko-san."  Kamaboko? Oh, the name Kakashi had tried to stick on him, only to fail when Kanna-san had mentioned that her head spun just watching him eat. They'd exchanged the name for Uzumaki after that, although they'd kept the  Naruto bit of it. Naruto knew he was caught and stood up, dusting his clothing off—after the day she'd had, Sakura-san would have his hide if he got it too dirty.

"I was trying as hard as I could to be quiet! And my name is L—Uzumaki Naruto!"

"And I am Gama Jiraiya…now, my associate Lord Shimura was keeping you alive to learn about the country you hail from. He believes you to have died in the fire, and I haven't taken the pains to disabuse him of the notion—to be very honest, I did plan on introducing you to the vertical part of a cliff or the bottom of a river as I rode out here but…" the old grandpa paused for a little, apparently to let his words sink in for Naruto. Naruto had been quietly, privately preparing for when the old grandpa would collect him and make good his promise of death—this was the first he'd heard of a deviation from the plan.

"But?"

"But I'm losing two of my men after this journey, and I'm wondering if perhaps I ought to teach you rather than kill you?" He put a hand dusty with charcoal up to his face, grasped his chin and started to walk a slow circle around Naruto. "Have you ever stolen?"

"No!" Naruto was shocked—his mouth flapped open and closed as more questions were fired at him. Surely,  surely he was missing words, he had to be! The crazy old grandpa couldn't mean—surely—

"Have you ever hurt someone to get an answer out of them?"

"Have you ever killed a man?"

"No, no! I went to church every week, I learned most of my letters and—" Gama shook his head and ruffled Naruto's hair a little, getting soot in his yellow locks, effectively stopping his words. There was strange pride shining in the old man's eyes.

"Good, that means I don't have to make you forget anything—unpainted silk, and all that. Now, I'll start you on the sign language first, and tonight Sai will pick up where I leave off," Gama said as he started off towards the house. His hand at his left side twitched a little, the other was hooked at the thumb in his obi. Over his shoulder Gama called back, "that was  me ," his hand twitched again the same way it had before, "you'd do well to learn it fast, Naruto-kun."

"You look like you have the old-man shakes, Grandpa— ow! "

Rubbing his head where the old man smacked him, Naruto glanced to his left and saw Ume making her way home across the rice field. The old man saw her too, stopping and staring at her with a curious appreciation. Naruto felt something rise up in his chest, coiled tightly with fear and foreboding. He well remembered that his life hung in the balance at this man's whim, and risked it by stepping around to face Gama and poking the old man in the chest.

"You leave them alone, Grandpa, you leave them  alone . You just take me and Tenzou-san and you  go . Leave Sakura-san and Kakashi be." The large black eyes squinted down at him, reminding Naruto that there was nothing he could do to ensure this scary old man left the Hatake family alone. But he had to try, even if it cost him his own life in some way.

"I will do as you ask if… you refrain from addressing me in such a familiar way as Grandpa. " Naruto's scowl deepened at Gama's dark tone and he poked Gama once more. It was better to die honorably than to be a coward, he'd learned that much from Kakashi in the spare months he'd known him. There was something slippery about this old man, and Naruto didn't like it.

"Alright…I'll just call you  Pervy Old Man instead.  Pervy old man. " Gama's face went slack and then curved into an impressed smile before his bear-like arm engulfed Naruto. Apparently no one had ever had the gall to address him in such a way, and Naruto's gamble had worked out in his favor. Hopefully.

"You! Are you that white-haired samurai's mother-in-law?" Naruto did his best not to squawk as Gama called out to Ume, while still frog-marching Naruto back across the paths through the rice fields. Sakura's orange-haired mother drew up short in surprise at the man was shouting at her—tentative of greeting a well-dressed old man who had her guest in a headlock—before cautiously making her way towards them. Naruto wondered if he ought to struggle more or less to reassure her, growling obscenities that were no more than gibberish to Gama under his breath as he tried to loose himself from Gama's  deceptively frail-looking arms.

* * *

 

Dinner was awkward. It was worse than Tenzou could ever remember dinner being. There were tiny, intense moments of discomfort he could recall quite clearly—when he had sat alone in the dark, chilly house waiting for Kakashi to return from his wedding to Sakura had been awful, followed closely by when he'd overheard Kakashi and Sakura discussing  private matters, and a dozen other occasions in the last year.

This was worse. He tried to make himself sit at ease, as Kakashi and Jiraiya did, but it was difficult. Naruto and Sai sat together near the door out to the porch, getting into hushed, garbled arguments every so often—made worse by each man's poor communication skills— while the women sat around the fire pit and made food. The only one who seemed ready to acknowledge the weird vibes of the room, however, was Pakkun, the dog. The fluffy dog typically sat glued to Sakura's side, but tonight he trotted between her side and Tenzou's—he would stand up, shake himself, and then wander around the room until he found himself next to Tenzou. He would sniff all around the brown-haired man before letting out a short  yap of confusion and going to settle down near Sakura once more.

Tenzou recalled days later that he  had  wished for something to happen to take the focus off of himself. Jiraiya, who had been making small-talk to the best of his abilities apparently, brought up his fascination with Sakura and Ume.

"So, Kakashi-san, your wife, is she really a demon? I might have to take her and her mother with me to Edo to study them in greater de—"

"You will do nothing of the sort!"

Tenzou had been with the Hatake family since he was thirteen years old, and had known Kakashi for more than a decade. He had never, until that night, seen Kakashi move so fast. The white haired man with one blind eye moved with deliberate gestures since his injury—he couldn't see as well as before—but all that was forgotten because before Kakashi had even finished speaking he was on his feet. Jiraiya's cool black eyes regarded the now standing Hatake man, while Tenzou could only stare as he realized he might be looking at a dead man in the flickering light of the fire and the fading light of the setting sun.

"Just having a laugh, Kakashi-san, nothing more. I am taking Tenzou, so why not the rest of you? Do sit down, you're making a scene." Kakashi didn't waver.

"You are taking my brother away from me, dictating what we do and don't do in our own lives—what proof do I have that you are going to leave my wife alone?"

"The fact that when my man Morino Ibiki returned from Fujimi, he did so without bringing all of you to me in chains. Really, the ruse you fobbed on that other man would never have made it past Morino's eyes." Jiraiya said with a tiny smile as he lifted his teacup to his lips. Tenzou noticed then the scene behind his master—Sakura pale, a hand at her abdomen, Ume sitting still and in shock. The woman, Shizune, staring blankly at the three men. Kakashi's hands clenched at his sides, and Jiraiya lifted an eyebrow before continuing after his sip of tea, "Sit down, Kakashi-san, I mean your family no harm and have no desire to battle such a passionate man," he said as he laughed softly.

"Soon I will be trying to reward your family for your loyal caretaking of Tenzou here, which includes protecting you from the boy's father. Shall we consider my blind eyes towards your family the first of these rewards?" Tenzou couldn't quite see it but the smile behind Jiraiya's teacup was almost feral.

* * *

 

Sleeping arrangements were awkward that night. Shizune was allowed to sleep in the room which was normally where Sai, Naruto, and Tenzou slept. The three men instead slept out in the main living area, along with Lord Gama. The household had gone to sleep quickly—Jiraiya and Sai had at least pretended to go to sleep—save for himself and Naruto who sat outside on the porch to get away from the man who planned on taking them to Edo before the week was out.

"Kakashi told me samurai go by different names…that true?" Naruto's voice was soft and, aside from the gravel in it from being nineteen, he sounded remarkably young. He'd told Tenzou a few weeks ago, in such poorly constructed language that Tenzou wondered how true it was, that he had no family where he'd come from. The brown haired man sighed, looking out over the moonlit garden and vegetable patch.

"Yes, once you're old enough and know enough you take a new name," he said, trying to make his phrasings simple. Naruto was a persistent learner, and as long as he was paying attention he could understand the gist of most everything. His sentence structures were also getting better and better, no doubt helped along by Kakashi's insistence that he learn to read and write in the new language he was learning.

"And you know enough, and you're old enough—do you know what you're going to call yourself?" Tenzou smiled, standing up from his spot on the porch to go down to the ground itself, squatting down when he got there and drawing in the dust with a finger. Naruto followed him, inspecting the characters closely in the poor lighting. Tenzou outlined them as he spoke softly.

"This is Gama, you see? Ga-ma, which will be my surname. And this," he pointed to the second set of characters, tracing them as he had the others, "is my name. Ya-ma-to. Sakumo-sensei wanted to give me one of his own name characters for this, however I told him I would save it for any children I might have—just in case I never became a fully-recognized samurai. This name," he gestured again at the name in the dusty, "is all mine. I've never told it to anyone before because there wasn't a point to such a dream. But now…"

"Now we're going to go to Edo and give that pervy old man what-for, right, Tenzou?"

"I wouldn't say that exactly, Naruto, but we will definitely try to stay ourselves despite him, yes?"

* * *

 

Anko sat primly in the litter while Iruka and his father rode on horses just a little ahead. They had spent the night in rooms Iruka's father kept for them in the hopes of a visit—the old man was delighted to see both of them, barely restraining it in his conversations with them during dinner and again this morning during breakfast. He was also pleased to be outside and on a horse, something which Anko did not fault him for. It was summer here in the north, although spring still clung to the air desperately. She was glad for it, because it was becoming miserably hot in Edo and the heat had thankfully not followed them to Fujimi. They passed through the village, where the streets were devoid of people after the shouts of the litter bearers as they neared the gates—better to pretend to not be around than to throw oneself to the ground in deference to the lord of the fief. It was novel how long the journey was out to the Hatake homestead—Iruka was destined to be a lord, so while Anko attended a lot of celebrations it was often as the hostess of the events and so she didn't get around Edo much. And since she had married, she rarely travelled to Kyoto to visit her father—she had probably visited him twice in the last four years, an arrangement which suited both of them.

She had adored her older brother as a child. He had been just a year or so older than her, and despite being quiet and straight-faced a lot of the time he had treated her nicely and paid attention to her. She had been ten when he had been sent away suddenly, to a far-away place called  Fujimi to live with a lord there. Anko had, initially, assumed that he was being sent to train as a samurai to succeed their father. She had actually believed that for several years, having heard nothing from her father—and her mother had been sent to the convent as a nun shortly after Tenzou had been sent away. It was only when she was fourteen that her father casually corrected her assumption—she had asked when the lord in Fujimi would send Tenzou back to them, as a recognized samurai, and what his new name might be. Orochimaru had informed her that her (supposed) brother was likely helping to plant the rice along with the rest of the servants to the fief.

Anko, who had watched peasants harvesting rice once, had been shocked nearly to tears at the thought that her sweet older brother was doing hard labor while she was learning to  embroider of all things. She had long imagined, until Iruka had set her to rights, that Fujimi was a terrible wasteland infested with demons of all sorts where her brother struggled to even survive.

But this place, the town itself and the surrounding area, was a nice one and Anko half-wished suddenly that her father had sent her out here as well—he had no use for a girl, he'd sneered to her mother all those years ago. Anko had actually been quite glad to live alone in Edo surrounded by servants who feared her, thinking that without her mother around she would develop her father's ill temper and fell desires. Against all expectation, she did not take after that cruel man. She went to court as was expected to—she was a distant relative, after all—and smiled behind her hand as she was supposed to. She had felt caged her entire life until her father had opened the latch and freed her by marrying her off to Iruka. Anko wondered if Tenzou felt caged here or if he was free.

Silly girl , she sharply reprimanded herself,  of course he is caged here. He is the rightful, if illegitimate, son of Hebi Orochimaru and he is the servant of a pauper samurai . Anko had no problem with legitimacy or not. Men would always have to have successors, else the world would fall to pieces. So long as stability was maintained, Anko had no opinion on who was married to whom. She knew that not everyone felt this way, but she certainly did. Her favorite (only, supposed) brother was her father's illegitimate son, and her husband was only legitimate because of old Sarutobi's wishes and declarations—she had no room in her life to scorn bastards.

The house, of a nice size she thought, came into view slowly as they turned a wide corner about a quarter mile away. In the mid-morning air, it nearly glowed. She wondered if Tenzou was the only servant or one of many. Anko remembered from last night that his master was Iruka's great friend, so she hoped that her brother had been treated well in the years since she'd seen him. A tall, youngish man with yellow hair was outside trying to play fetch with a distinctly unimpressed dog. He straightened to better make out their group of horses and litterbearers before he scrambled—all elbows and knees—up the porch and stuck his head in the house. Probably yelling, the lout.

Soon after, a man white shocking white hair came out, hastily adjusting his clothing so it sat properly on his body. Iruka's friend from childhood, then. Hatake Kakashi. Closely following him a young woman with a shock of pink hair on her head—it wasn't a harsh pink, by no means, it was just  pink . Probably the wife he rushed back to Fujimi for then—Lord Gama had informed them some time ago that their travel plans were slightly postponed and that the white haired man had had to return to his wife who was gravely ill.

As they approached the fence, Iruka and his father making hearty greetings already, three expressionless men appeared from nowhere and took charge of the horses and direction of the litter. One of them helped Anko down, and she saw them doing the same for her husband and father-in-law.

"You are more than welcome in my home, my lord," the Hatake man said softly with a bow, "but know that you are not the only visitors we have at the moment. Though, it is nice to see a familiar face."

"Ah, a face that's never brought you fortune, Kakashi-kun, at least not the kind of fortune Lord Gama has showered on your head. Has he told you what he's making me do? Redistribute the entire district, reorganize the koku for all of the samurai families, all for you for the most inexplicable reason." Their host's mouth twisted at some hidden joke.

"I can assure you that in a few moments it will be quite understandable to you, my lord. Now, allow me to introduce my wife, Sakura?" Anko could tell by the careful tension of the girl's obi that she was with child and unused to the changes in her body—no wonder Iruka's friend had been so desperate, this girl was pregnant with their first child.

"Sakura, I hope to have some of your tea—it has been a long time since I've had the pleasure—and that you'll share it with my son, Iruka, and his wife Anko. They've just returned from Edo, safe and sound thanks to Lord Gama, and Anko has expressed some interest in meeting your servant, Tenzou." Anko twitched her lips in not  quite a smile at the old man's words—he was concealing that she was Tenzou's sister. Kakashi looked taken aback for a moment before Sakura bowed and replied.

"Sarutobi-sama you are always welcome to join us for tea. As for Tenzou, I think you will be much impressed with the change you'll find in him since you last spoke."

The inside of the house was nicely kept and clean, the screens in good repair and new. Their dog nosed around Anko's feet, whuffling excitedly and growling just a touch before Kakashi tried to drag it away from her. This was certainly turning out to be an experience—Anko giggled a little and stopped the man, dropping to her knees gracefully and petting the wiggling dog a little.

" Pakkun! No!" Sakura knelt a little slower and got the dog under a bit of control. Pakkun twisted his head around and licked her face while still straining towards Anko in hopes of a little more attention. Over their heads Kakashi complained that Sarutobi-sama had given them a poor guard dog, so pleased to see strangers. Iruka asked his father with some suspicion if the old lord had given  all of Ryuk's puppies away, to which the old man's answer was innocent and vague.

"Who is it, Kakashi?" Anko looked up at the new voice and her mouth dropped open.

He looked the same as fifteen years ago, while he looked completely different at the same time. Her father's imperious black eyes, wide now but able to slant coldly, set in her father's rectangular features. There was a softness to his jaw, however, that their father did not have—and his nose was different as well. His mother maybe? Anko's eyes flicked up and down his body a few times, realizing that he wasn't dressed as a servant but rather as a samurai complete with an ornate wakizashi peeking out from his obi. His feet were covered in pure white tabi, unlike the patched and repaired ones on Kakashi's feet.  What?

Tenzou took a moment longer to recognize her before her identity dawned on him and a wide grin split his face—it looked like he smiled much more often than her father, but not enough to leave the faint lines on his face that Kakashi had. He reached down and pulled her up, grasping her arms and holding her out a little to get a good look. He hadn't seen her for years and years—despite her father-in-law being the daimyo of the district he lived in. Anko wondered if he would fix the little broken latch on her writing desk? Despite her best efforts on the frantic journey to Fujimi, the little desk had suffered some damage at the hands of the servants Lord Gama had brought with him.

"I thought I would never see you again, Anko," he said softly, releasing her arms to hold her hands.

"Sarutobi-sama said that you were a servant here," her voice was soft, in a way she'd never used with him before. When they'd been children she had been loud and boisterous around her older brother bossing him around because he let her. Suddenly Anko wanted to rough him up for scaring her for so many years that he was living in poverty and destitution, forced to do things like get his hands muddy and grow rice and onions and radishes. Tenzou watched her closely for a long moment, dropping her hands and squaring his shoulders a little.

"I was. I was until yesterday, when Lord Gama arrived here and claimed me as his daughter's future husband. If you came here with him yesterday you would have seen me as I've been used to living." Anko stared at her brother for a long moment, seeing just how much he had changed while at the same time he was still the sweet little boy she'd known all those years ago. Suddenly she smirked in a way that had Iruka cringing in the periphery—everyone else around them was quite still and quiet.

"Oh," she said, drawing out the sound while raising her eyebrow at the faint defiance in Tenzou's voice. She studied her brother, as though she was trying to read the truth of the matter from his very stance. Iruka had cringed so far out of her field of vision that she could no longer see her poor husband. Her smile was likely  more than devious—Ironically, their father would be proud.

"Father will be most displeased after the week he's had, what with losing his lover and heir all at once. It makes me so happy that I can visit you and  not visit him. You will live in Edo, I assume?" Her tall brown-haired brother nodded once. She tried not to think that just yesterday, not even a full day ago, her brother who was so finely dressed and respected now had been a servant then. Someone to order around. She would have to write a thank-you of some sort to Lord Gama after this was all over if she didn't see him first. Speaking of Lord Gama, though…Anko bowed deeply to everyone in the room before sweeping through the house to the back garden, ignoring Iruka's faint protest. That old man loved gardens, so that would be where she'd find him, she was certain.

* * *

 

Sai gladly turned over his notes to his master, allowing the old man to critique his storylines and his drawings of the last few months. Jiraiya was a master at building stories, from sweet and happy romances to dark tales of lust and betrayal, and Sai wanted so much to emulate them in style and execution if not pure talent. His master had had a short tale printed before his twentieth birthday, a tale of daring-do in the manner of the ancient classics about long-ago shogunates and emperors, and had continued the practice into the present day.

They sat out in the garden, shaded by a brave little maple sapling—Sakura had informed him months ago that they had planted it in celebration of their wedding. Sai curled his hands up on his knees, listening to Jiraiya quietly review his work with a few  hmm' s and  ahh, I see' s over the extensive number of pages that had accumulated over the winter and spring. A few of his brothers twittered as some horses and a litter drew near to the house, but his brothers said that nothing was amiss and that neither of them should bother coming out of the garden. They all knew that Sai drew comfort from his art and that their master was always pleased to write or read a new story.

After things settled down, save for some murmurings in the house as their hosts greeted more guests—Sai was glad he had specified that his master was to provide enough resources for the Hatake family to expand their house into a proper compound—so did his brothers into more casual conversations about everything that Sai had missed when he'd been stuck here in Fujimi. He whistled occasionally to remind them that while he had been stuck out here, he had not suffered for it.

At least, that was until the woman had come out of the house. Her steps were dainty and ladylike, quite different from Sakura who showed her displeasure easily and violently when driven to it, and her face gave away nothing of her real feelings. Until she stopped right in front of his master, who looked up first in puzzlement but soon breaking into a smile at her. Sai noticed that her hands were balled into white-knuckled fists and almost warned his master before remembering that the man could take care of himself. Besides, long experience with Sakura's temper cautioned him not to get involved in fights that weren't his.

"Lady Umino, it is good to see you—I trust that—" The illusion of a calm, highborn lady evaporated faster than Naruto ate fish. Her voice was tightly controlled as she spoke quickly, her voice angry and deadly soft. Sai remembered suddenly that  Lady Umino was  Lord Tenzou's sister and his blood went a little cold as he remembered some of the stories from late last night and early this morning that his brothers had told him. Lady Umino was, as far as they could tell from the last few months of watching her, that she was as terrifying as their master on her bad days.

"You must have known. You can't tell me that you didn't know, you must have known for months and you could have freed my brother from that  hell months ago or even years and you  did not . Lord Gama, you have shown my husband and I much kindness since the fire in Edo but I can only wonder now if you didn't do it as a bartering chip to secure my brother Tenzou for yourself in case Sarutobi-sama wouldn't hand him over. People are not chattel that you can shuffle from place to place, if you think so then you are no better than your rival, our father. I expect you to treat my brother much better than that in the future, Lord Gama."

And then she was gone. Sai glanced impassively over at his master, before trying to quell a smile on his face. Jiraya's own face was slack at being told off by such a tiny woman, while in the distance Sai's brothers twittered at the thorough dressing-down Lady Umino had given their master. It wasn't often that people spoke out against him and lived, and this was the second time in as many days! Suddenly his master recovered himself with a wry smile on his face.

"It stands to reason that her temper is alike to my stubborn Tenzou, their mothers were cousins after all. And don't think," he raised his voice as he continued, "that I don't know which of you are laughing. I'll allow it for now, but don't expect it to continue once we return to Edo. We will have to be on double time protecting my daughter and son-in-law, you all know that." Sai's brothers quieted, returning to gossiping about what the winter had brought to them in terms of scandals and power-struggles and their master's on-going vendetta with Lord Shimura.

* * *

 

They sent Kakashi over to Asuma's house when her pains had started in earnest in the middle of the night, while Kurenai hurried to theirs to help. It was just starting to turn towards fall and away from summer. The rice was just weeks from being harvested, and between the contractions Sakura was glad to have the help Lord Gama had left them before he had taken Naruto and Tenzou to Edo with him. Izumo and Kotetsu had never harvested rice in earnest, having lived in the city for much of their lives but they were amiable enough learners and Sakura fully planned on making the shinobi work as well—she knew they gossiped about her constantly, two grown men did  not whistle that much she didn't  care what they said.

Her mother, Kurenai, as well as the midwife and another woman from the village, were there to help her. In the last few months several of the women in Fujimi had started to make advances of friendship with her, after seeing her beautiful needlework and her sweet temper when she delivered her completed pieces in town. At least those were the reasons one of the shinobi gave to her, a young man who leered too much and had brown hair which stuck up at odd angles—she called him Dog-boy as punishment for him refusing to take a name, and Sakura refused to call him "shinobi-san," for the rest of their lives. One of the two shinobi accompanied her everywhere in the last few months, shadowing her silently through the village with a watchful eye turned towards those she passed in the street.

Kakashi certainly appreciated that she didn't leave anxious and return tearful, especially as it got harder for her to move around as her belly expanded as time went on and the baby got bigger. Sakura right now, through the pain was looking forward to having this child out of her.

It was many hours later, well into the daylight of morning, that they finally coaxed the baby out. Sakura could only stare as the other women helped cut it away from her and clean it, cooing at the poor thing even as it tested new lungs out after a healthy slap on the back to clear its mouth. She barely noted the mess the two of them had managed to make, the blood and fluids all caught on old towels or being swiftly patted away from their bodies, as her mother handed the naked little boy to her. His skin was hot and a little sticky to the touch—he would need a bath soon—and he had a full head of black hair that glinted just a bit red in the light.

Sakura only distantly heard her mother calling out to Izumo to run and get Kakashi. She ignored everything around her, sitting gingerly on the towel-covered old futon. The little boy was still crying, a shrieking, awful sound that probably only his mother loved. She didn't know when she felt Kakashi's hand on her shoulder, his warmth at her back and then his damp breath on her neck. She just leaned back into him, still holding their little boy who she supported in her arms. She hurt all over, like nothing she had ever felt, but the weight in her arms was worth it. Surrounded by heat, from her husband at her back and her newborn son at her front, Sakura dozed off.

When she woke, it was no different although much later in the afternoon. Kakashi had his arms wrapped around her to make sure she didn't lose her grip on the baby in her sleep. He was awake, it seemed, and once he realized that she was awake too he asked her if  Botan would be acceptable for the little boy. Sakura smiled, taking one of Kakashi's hands. She kissed his fingertips and then guided them over the infant's forehead, cheeks, and his puffy, pouting lips. They would name their next one Tenzou or perhaps Masaki, as she had wanted, Sakura mused, her mind still drowsy.  Botan was a fine name though, she thought as she mentally committed it as her son's name right then.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: at this time in Japan you kept your kid's head shaved bald until they were three years old and went to their first shichi-go-san festival. Yup.
> 
> Funotherstuff: Before you all start getting mad at the reddish shine to Botan's hair, let me clarify this: I'm acquainted with a family who had this happen to their son. The mom is American Chinese and the dad is a red-headed, and their son has really dark-bordering-on-black-hair, but in strong or yellowish lighting his hair has a burnt red tint to it. So deal.
> 
> Funfact: When Europe was still actively interacting with Japan, the way they took to get there was to hop from Spain to Mexico, hop across Mexico, then on to various islands and such in the Pacific, to the Philippines, and then North to Japan. Any way which didn't involve going around the southern tip of Africa was much preferred.
> 
> Funfact: There is actually a place in Spain where the surname 'Japon,' is a remnant of this one diplomatic party's descendants in the region. So there's that.
> 
> Funfact: When someone gives you tea, you should take it with both hands rather than just one.

Kakashi hoped that his son learned to sleep through the night soon, despite all assurances from his mother-in-law that it would be at least  weeks before that happened. He lit the lamp for Sakura, sitting back on his knees and yawning. Botan mewled unhappily from the little cot, hungry or in need of his mother's voice Kakashi couldn't yet tell. The boy was only two weeks old, they were all still getting used to him. And he was getting used to them. Sakura bent to lift the infant up, holding him and cooing to try and quiet his crying. The flickering light illuminated the faint red tint to his son's hair, an accent to the fiery color of Sakura's which cloaked over her face as she cuddled Botan close. He would braid it again for her once they got Botan to go back to sleep. Kakashi rubbed at his blind eye absently, trying to relieve a sudden ache there.

"You're fine, you're fine, hush," Sakura said softly, stroking the back of one finger down the baby's cheek while he rooted against her chest, snuffling unhappily still. With a laugh she opened her robe a little and helped him latch on, holding his head up while he fed. Kakashi caught himself staring a little too closely and sharply reined his attention back to Sakura's face, wondering if she'd caught him right as she spoke.

"Kakashi you should try to go back to sleep, you have to be up early to get the last of the rice in," she whispered, not looking up from Botan. Kakashi shook his head, scooting around to sit a little closer to his family—and to pry Botan's fist away from Sakura's hair, letting the little fingers wrap tightly around one of his own. The infant hardly seemed to notice, content and happy in his mother's arms. Kakashi was silent for a long moment, allowing himself to be as peaceful as the two in front of him. Botan's tiny hand opened briefly and then latched closed again around Kakashi's finger, his miniscule fingernails hinting at scratching—just hinting. Everything about his son was just a hint, just suggestions of how the boy might take after either one of them, and Kakashi couldn't wait to see it.

"No, I think I'm fine here," he said softly, tilting Sakura's head up with his free hand and kissing her.

* * *

 

He was glad to be away from the city, filled with people still rebuilding from the fire. He could tell that Naruto and Sai were as well, while his wife was ambivalent towards the entire thing. He of course had helped out where he could, when he could escape all of his bodyguards but Sai who clung to him as though they were both rice grains in a stewpot. He couldn't ever elude Sai, but at least with Sai he could relax sometimes and be what remained of Tenzou—a man who was fading fast. The rest of the time he was expected by almost everyone, even Naruto, to act like Yamato, Lord Gama's son-in-law from the country.

This trip would be restful to him, he knew. In his letters, Kakashi had spoken of the son Sakura had given him—Botan, the name Kakashi should have grown up with. Yamato mused that it was a better name to go through childhood with than "mushroom," as Kakashi claimed to have done. "Peony," alluded to something brief and beautiful, not something that was odd and smushed from the beginning. His old friend also related tales of teaching his tiny fleet of servants how to do menial tasks from getting water for the cistern to rice harvesting and planting. Yamato himself shared his experiences at court and in the household he found himself heir to—how he was the only person there to not address Jiraiya by "father," or how purple his actual father had been last summer when he'd first seen Tenzo—Yamato. He had been presented at court immediately after arriving in the city, presented as another one of Sarutobi's bastards—a believable story to everyone in Edo—who was to marry Jiraiya's daughter in the spring. Orochimaru had looked as though he'd had a blood vessel burst open in his brain.

Since then, Yamato had been tasked with quickly learning what was a lifetime of responsibilities—things that most other men prepared their entire lives for he was learning in months and weeks. Shizune helped him often, although he felt self-conscious going to her since she always had to put away her own work to aid him. After just a few weeks Yamato had put his foot down and forced Jiraiya to make a deal with him. He would work as hard and fast as possible and be given a break to return to Fujimi—deep inside himself, Tenzou's voice asked for a month or more, while outwardly he'd demanded two weeks. Jiraiya had refused.

However, in the middle of winter, Jiraiya had relented after realizing that Yamato was barely living—he ate when forced to, but otherwise threw himself fully into his studies. He refused to meet anyone in Edo, refused to attend parties or public events unless Sai and Naruto physically held him down and dressed him up, and hardly spoke to Shizune or Jiraiya themselves. The old man had cornered him, demanding what was wrong, and Yamato had told him—he knew why he couldn't take a break, there was too much to learn, so if he couldn't have a break in eight or nine months, he most definitely could not have a break now. Jiraiya had backed off immediately, promising that he would send Yamato to Fujimi for two weeks, during the fall harvest—but only if the will to live returned to Yamato's eyes.

With something to look forward to, Yamato hadn't had much trouble holding up his end of the bargain.

Fujimi was much as he'd left it. No major upheavals, no long and silent stares, although a few of the villagers shuddered as Sai and Naruto passed by on their horses—painful or scary memories always lasted the longest in a town of this size. Shizune herself rode next to Yamato, refusing to be carried in a jolting carriage for four days. Yamato didn't blame her, having travelled by litter a few times before banning the mention of them from his presence. Besides, without litterbearers slowing them down they cut a day off the length of the trip.

The countryside was golden around them as they went on towards Kakashi's home, and Yamato felt excitement bubble up in him. He knew in a few days his hands would be blistered and his back sore from helping bring in the rice harvest, he hadn't done any 'real' work in ages now, but he didn't care. This was home, despite everything in his life that had changed, this was still home.

The house was changed, and there was a second building a little away from it where Kakashi's new servants lived. Tenzou, usually buried deep inside, simmered in jealousy. Yamato only admired the fine layout of the complex. As they tied their horses to the fence, Pakkun bounded out from around the back of the house howling up a storm before skidding to a stop at the sight of Yamato. The dog growled low under his breath and circled them warily as another two dogs rounded the corner just a moment after, barking just as loudly as Pakkun himself.

"Hello? Is there anyone home?" Yamato called out, not wanting to get closer to the house with the dogs all around him. Pakkun was gradually calming down, cautiously sniffing at Yamato as though remembering who he was. Yamato hoped he didn't bite him as a welcoming present. Shizune, Sai, and Naruto filed in next to him, waiting.

"Yes! Yes, come around to the back!" came Sakura's voice after a snippet of a hushed argument.

"What about your pack of wild dogs?" Sai called back. Yamato shot him an appreciative glance, while Naruto glared at the tone the shinobi took.

"Oh they're fine, Sai," Kakashi's voice preceded his appearance on the porch only barely. "Now my friend, come and meet my little boy." Yamato stared at the scene on the wrap-around porch, mouth agape. Kakashi came to a stop and leaned up against one of the posts holding the roof up, an infant in his arms—obviously rocking the child to sleep, and perhaps waiting for Yamato's arrival given the fact that he was dressed neatly and formally. The little tyke was dozing off and trying to fight it, his bald head drooping and then picking up again and then drooping once more. Yamato bowed to the two of them, his companions following suit.

"He's certainly persisten—"

"Hush, don't want to wake him do you? I've only just now gotten him to doze off. Poor thing got woken up from his nap by his mother yelling at Izumo for almost pulling up her winter radishes." Yamato raised an eyebrow at his friend just as Sakura came up behind Kakashi and whapped the back of her husband's head before thieving the baby from his arms. The child's eyes opened wide for a moment before closing in contentment while his little body went limp against his mother.

"You like radishes in your soup so much, Kakashi, that you'll whine for weeks if you have to go without for a night—it was a favor to you that I yelled at him," Sakura said, touching her fingers to her lips and then pressing the fingertips to the infant's forehead. Yamato tried not to stare, wondering a dozen things at once—if his own mother had done that to him, if all babies lay so quietly against their mother as this one did, if he would be a father soon, among others. He couldn't muse for long, because Kakashi spoke up when he saw Sakura trying to hide and restrain a yawn.

"My, Sakura, you certainly need a nap as well," Kakashi said, pushing up and away from where he had been leaning. Sakura glared at him as they both went down the steps to properly greet Yamato and his fellow travelers. There was something off about Sakura, though Yamato himself couldn't properly tell  what .

"It's almost like she is pregnant again, it would seem by her temper and fatigue. My, Kakashi, you work quite fast—your son is not yet a year old and you are to have a second?" Sai managed to say before Yamato had time to stop him and his idiot mouth. He was about to apologize profusely when he actually looked at his hosts. Sakura had blushed red almost immediately, looking down and away from her newly-arrived guests, followed quickly by Kakashi whose ears flushed to a pink far darker than Sakura's hair. Little Botan giggled in his sleep, gleeful at his parents' embarrassment. Yamato rolled his eyes,  typical .

"You couldn't leave her alone for even a few months? Kakashi!"

"Well she is such a beautiful woman and—"

"No! No, no, I don't want to hear a word of what you are going to—"

"Ah, won't you listen to a word I say then… Ten…zou?"

* * *

 

Present Day

* * *

 

Jerome Snow had gotten used to getting off and on planes in the last year or so. The inheritance from his grandfather's estate had provided him the funds to start a search into his family's genealogy—something his grandfather had never had the funds to do until he was too old to actually do it. His dream had fallen to Jerome, who didn't mind the weight of it. His journey had taken him to New Mexico, Texas, Mexico, Peru, and Spain so far. He had learned passable Spanish and even a few smatterings of words in native languages. Some people were interested in meeting him, of realizing that he was their something-something-removed cousin, while others had been ambivalent. He kept a journal of his experiences, dedicating each passage as a letter to his grandfather.

He had learned how to properly decipher writing in such a way as he could now guess where to look next in the archives, guess at which documents he needed to see. It was well worth the effort, he'd found, until he'd hit a dead end in Spain. He reached the end of the remaining archives for one branch of the family, leaving only a curiously foreign branch to occupy his time. Tomás Uchijua and his wife Luisa had arrived in Spain in 1660 from Japan of all places. Jerome had stared at the page which spelled out their country of origin in clear, concise letters—  Tomás y Luisa Uchijua de Fuchimi de Japon, 1660 . Tomás had made a good life for himself, being awarded a decent plot of land in Asturias and left to his own devices to raise a family with his wife. One son went to the clergy, another to Madrid to serve the King—later being sent to the New World on the King's behalf—and a daughter was later married to a local lord.

But it remained that the family line in Spain ended at Tomás and Luisa, which meant that there was only one thing left to do, which was follow the trail to Japan, but only first after doing some research about  why Tomas and Luisa would have travelled to Spain at all. They'd been found by a boat-load of Franciscans on their way to try to revitalize the mission-presence in Japan after a massive government crackdown on foreign religions. They had barely escaped with their lives, according to the statement attached to their family records. It looked like it had taken two years for them to arrive safely in Spain, by which time they had learned Spanish and Latin and were ready to settle in.

Knowledge that there was still a trail unsettled Jerome's nerves and ate at his curiosity—Grandfather would have  adored this finding—which was why he was getting off a plane now—in Tokyo. There were perhaps a few remaining records about the Uchijua family in the region they'd come from, Fuchimi. Jerome didn't have much to go on, but he had to try.

He had planned to spend a few weeks in Tokyo, with a translator working on the documents. The need to know far outstripped his patience with learning a third language at this point—he would learn it should his research prove fruitful, he promised himself.

What he found was that a major sting on underground Christians had occurred in  Fujimi in the fall of 1657, as well as a round-up of related families in several other major cities or regions. What was outstanding from all of this was that Uchiwa Shisui and his wife Rin seemed to have escaped or died in a fire the following spring. This lined up strikingly well with what Jerome had found out in Spain, that a Japanese couple bearing a similar surname had barely escaped with their lives to Europe. The translator, a woman named Shiori, suggested they go to Fujimi to further investigate—they could stay with her aunt and uncle, who ran a ryokan out of their old family house. It was a pleasant coincidence, as Jerome was growing a bit fond of her. She had an excitement in her eyes when she spoke that he found desirable.

The small compound was shaded by a stand of maple trees, which Shiori said had grown there for hundreds of years. Each time one died, another was planted because a demoness once offered to bless the family twice over for every maple living on the grounds. There were rice fields stretching all around the ryokan, with a large garden behind the main house. Shiori's aunt and uncle were most accommodating to the sudden visit, letting Jerome sleep in one of the outer buildings with a few rooms to himself.

They arrived on a Friday, which was the start of a local holiday, leaving the library and its archives closed until Tuesday the following week. Jerome had privately bemoaned this while Shiori had left him to his own devices—she had to run some errands for her relatives as well as pick up groceries for the family among other things. While she was gone, he passed the time by speaking with the little grandma who sat happily outside on the wrap-around porch. She was the mother of Shiori's uncle and was well into her eighties, but her English was suspiciously good. She had lived in Britain for several years, while her husband had studied there, she said.

"But he was Hatake, and they always come back here. It is in their blood, and they all know it—even if they try to escape it. Even Shiori-chan, she finds herself coming back here despite living in the city. It's the demon blood, I think—they are stronger when they are near the lands that the demon woman blessed, and among people who share her as an ancestor."

"Excuse me—demon woman?"

The little old woman smiled and patted his hand before pouring them both some tea from the little pot which was left at her side. Her hands were expert as she handed the cup to him, bringing up his free hand to help him accept the cup. All around them, birds chirruped and called out every so often in the warm spring air. Jerome felt that unsettled bit of nerves in his stomach relaxing, as though he was home somehow.

"Yes, a demon woman married one of the Hatake family heads long ago. She saved his life from a band of wandering demons and ogres, and to repay her he asked her to marry him. The demon woman gave the family prosperity and respect, and gave up her immortality to become human and bear him two sons and a daughter—my husband kept the old koseki records, as well as some other things if you would like to see them?"

With nothing else to do, Jerome could hardly say 'no.' He was starting to pick up a few things in Japanese, but he hardly knew enough to survive even—which meant that he was getting no work done until Shiori returned—and he didn't mind allowing this little old woman to tell him about her family. About Shiori's family. He genuinely liked her, and was starting to hope that she might feel the same way.

They went back into the house, sliding panel doors with white paper in them, and went into a cool little room with an imposing cabinet dominating it. There was almost nothing else in the room, but  Emi , as she introduced herself as, knelt in front of the cabinet and opened it. Jerome saw nothing else to do except sit down next to her, cross-legged and attentive—ready to learn, ready to dedicate another entry in his journal to his grandfather who would have been thrilled twice-over by this development.

"This," she said, turning around and gently setting a wooden box between them, "is the box that the demon woman kept her papers in. She ran her household out of this box, but we keep her things in it these days." Emi opened the box delicately, taking out a few trinkets and laying them on the ground. At the bottom was a frail looking silk scroll. The old woman rolled it out with utmost care, allowing Jerome to see it properly.

The painting was executed softly, the hard lines that he expected were not in presence, and depicted a man and woman sitting on a porch disturbingly similar to the one he and Emi had just left. The man had a shock of silver hair, sitting with his leg propped up, his arm resting on the raised knee. Leaning back against him was a woman with delicate pink hair and large green eyes. Her hands were folded on her lap while Jerome got the impression that the man had his other hand at her waist or hip. They were dressed nicely in formal clothing, the woman's hair was done up beautifully while the man's struggled to escape its topknot.

"This is Hatake Kakashi, and his wife, the demon woman Sakura." Jerome stared at the painting for a little longer, in utter disbelief until he noticed the lock of hair pinned to the bottom of the painting. A thick lock of hair, straight and brittle with age and bound at one end with a clump of wax, was attached to the page. The hair was strawberry blonde, a color which Jerome was tempted to call pink more than anything else. His stay in Japan, it seemed, was going to be rather longer than he'd planned on. It didn't matter, suddenly, whether or not he found anything about the Uchiwa family in Fujimi, he suddenly wanted much more desperately to know how a red head had found her way to rural Japan three hundred years ago.

He couldn't wait to badger Shiori about her family, even if it made her not like him anymore it was far too fascinating to give up.

"There is also, in the papers we have, a family biography that was written down a few generations after the demon woman came to be Hatake Kakashi's wife, if you'd like to see it?"

Jerome later found, on a second research journey to Tokyo, that the box which housed the ancient documents was in a style only seen in Edo in the latter half of the seventeenth century, in the family houses of a few highly placed retainers of the shogun. There was also an entire series of erotic books published which contained within them art which was strikingly similar to the style of art found in the painting Emi had showed him. He, of course, made sure to look up all he could on the Uchiwa but most of his attention was turned towards the Hatake family. It was just as well, anyway, because many records of the Uchiwa had been destroyed after their mass arrests.

Most of the early history of the Hatake was recorded by family head named Daichi in the mid-1720s. The man had extrapolated from notes on the family koseki, as well as a few interviews with his remaining elders. The family had been poor until Hatake Kakashi had married a woman whose family claimed they were merchants, only for him to find out that they were really demons—luckily for Kakashi, Daichi noted, they weren't interested in eating him—after Kakashi saved the life of his intended bride. In return for his hand in marriage, the demon woman and her family promised to bless the Hatake if a maple tree was planted on the grounds.

The story that Emi had told him of was really as close to the truth as he could get, because the girl's family had been of the merchant class and therefore not forced to keep records of their lineage. It burned Jerome a little to not truly know where the woman's pink hair had come from, but he knew that it would just lead him away from Japan and back to Europe—and away from Shiori, and the relationship they had been tentatively forming over the last few months.

In the end, he decided to stay with Shiori. Looking out at the fields every morning comforted him, allowing him to almost see—out of the corner of his eye it seemed—a white haired man and a pink haired woman working side by side out in the rice. There were centuries between then and now, and many—more than he liked to think—generations, but sometimes, just sometimes, Jerome could see them.

The Samurai and the Oni Girl.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Hanami is the spring cherry blossom viewing festival in Japan. The cherry blossoms look pinkish from a distance, but whiter up close. We get to see a bit of Inner Tenzou/Yamato here, the one that was so thoroughly traumatized by Kakashi in the anime. This is just my interpretation of him, and I think he's adorkable.
> 
> I changed Uchiha to Uchiwa on purpose. Last names are for samurai, so Sakura's surname is used as a slur by their neighbors & fellow villagers making her and those in her family called "______ of the Spring" so there we go.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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